Trick of Light
by Maleficent
Summary: Post Grave. Chapter Thirteen added. Buffy discovers who Dawn has been secretly talking with, Xander discovers what Anya has been hiding, and Spike needs Xander's help.
1. Remembering Summer, and the Search for t...

Disclaimer: I own none of this.  
  
A short Explanation: There is a topic addressed in this story, not yet seen in this chapter, which is about the reason Spike went to Africa. Over the course of a couple weeks, I have discovered that some people have many different interpretations as to why he left. Some thought that it was to get the chip out, and others thought that he intended to acquire a soul and the writers were trying to be tricky. Either way, I will just let the readers know that, I too, have no true sense as to what he went there for, I simply guessed.  
  
Authors note Ok, for those who care, this is my system. I write a chapter while listening to music reflecting my mood and the tone the chapter should hold. For example, Crash by Dave Mathews Band was playing while I wrote…the fourth chapter, or maybe the fifth. Before writing the chapter at all though, I have about four full pages of notes and ideas that I continue to add to. Then, once the chapter is written, I revise it. Then I begin the next chapter, while adding notes onto my other collection at the same time, and infrequently I revise the other chapter again and again furiously. Then I upload the first chapter after I am into my third. So I always have about two or three chapters lying about. Then I don't feel too pressed to get something out there. Depending on how happy I am with my work, it usually takes anywhere from one to four days to upload. To those who review, thank you. To those who don't…well I don't know what to say. I hope you like it, I suppose, and I hope I soon write a chapter stunning enough that you do review. I think my note is done…except I would like to say that I do really appreciate and love reviews. No flames, because they are rude and usually ignorant, but I don't mind constructive criticism at all. And if you don't like my story, fine tell me, just give me a reason! Don't leave me hangin,  
  
Carrie  
  
  
  
  
  
Chapter One  
  
-Remembering Summer and the Search for the Sexy Shirt-  
  
  
  
Buffy idly sorted through her closet, she was supposed to meet Xander and Willow at the Bronze in half an hour, and she had already wasted ten minutes in search of her "sexy shirt". The "sexy shirt" was in fact an essential part of Buffy's wardrobe, worn only when she was feeling especially promiscuous. Unfortunately, it was no where to be found.  
  
Aggravated, she ran her fingers through her short hair, looked around the room for a moment in frustration, and then ran out into the hall and knocked on her sister's door. She went in with out waiting for a reply. "Dawn, did you take "the" shirt?"  
  
Dawn turned around from her desk and laid down her pencil. Her hair was shorter, about shoulder length, and curled slightly. There was a hint of rouge on her lips and cheeks.  
  
"What are you talking about?" She asked, annoyed at being interrupted while studying. "You just described every shirt you own, and I borrow your shirts all the-oh." She paused in sudden understanding. "You mean 'the' shirt? Buffy, you lost the 'sexy shirt'? Where is it?"  
  
"Well if I lost it, then I obviously don't know where it is." Buffy replied rather tersely, already in the hall. For a second she almost went into her old room, the one which contained the twin sized bed and old posters, along with the heart ache and sorrow from a past which she had moved on from. She slept in her Mother's old room now, Willow had left it behind to live with Xander shortly after Tara's death, nearly three months ago. Only Buffy could find solace in the cream walls and large bed.  
  
Buffy went back to the closet and regretfully snatched at a black, off the shoulder tee shirt, studying it with a frown before replacing her grey tank with the new find. She then headed towards the nightstand closest to the window, leisurely side stepping a small area rug with light green vines and pheasants decorating the trim. It covered the stain of Tara's blood. Buffy did not have the money to re-carpet the room, and the small rug served as a reminder, a memorial of sorts. She had never once stepped foot on it. At the nightstand she grabbed the keys to her house and put them in her pocket, also putting on a pair of silver earrings lying by the light. Finally, after putting on a black belt, she turned off the small lamp, extinguishing the soft glow it set about the room. Sharp shadows merged with darkness, and Buffy looked towards the window a moment before making her exit. The moon was shining brightly…a that moon had witnessed too many memories. Buffy turned away.  
  
She walked back to Dawns room, waiting this time for her sister's response after knocking before she stepped in.  
  
"You look nice," Dawn commented, observing her sister's soft face and large eyes, waves of honey and gold locks hanging loosely about her face. After closing a large textbook and sliding shut one of the desk drawers, Dawn spoke again. "Still no shirt?"  
  
"No such luck."  
  
"You'll find it." Dawn shrugged. She pushed back her chair and stood up, sliding her hands into her back pockets. "Are you leaving now? For the Bronze?"  
  
"Yeah. There's pizza in the 'fridge…I'll be back in a couple of hours." Buffy gave Dawn a somewhat apologetic smile for leaving her behind.  
  
"Hey, I'll be fine. I have a hot date with some popcorn and a microwave." Dawn began pushing Buffy out of the room playfully. "You have fun, be good, and all that jazz."  
  
"Ok, ok. See ya'." Buffy shuffled down the stairs as Dawn watched her go.  
  
"Bye." She called, and at the sound of the front door shutting, she quietly went back into her room.  
  
Dawn re-opened the top draw of her desk and pulled out a cordless phone. She looked out the window, no emotion on her face as she watched Buffy step into a car. She put the phone to her ear, someone already on the other line.  
  
"Sorry, yeah, that was Buffy." She paused. "No. She hasn't found out, and I don't plan on letting her."  
  
  
  
Buffy slid into the car wearing an expression of apprehension. Jack leaned over and kissed her on the cheek, he was wearing a dark, olive green collared shirt. He stepped on the gas and they went down the road at a steady pace. Actually, Jack was a relatively steady guy, Buffy perceived. He stretched a built arm behind the head of her chair. Buffy studied him for a couple minutes. He had a strong jaw and dark brown eyes that revealed nothing. His hair was short and slicked back.  
  
"Why are you looking at me like that?" Jack asked, shifting slightly and then switching on the radio. Please, Buffy thought, like he had never been stared at before.  
  
"No reason," she said out loud.  
  
"Whatever you say." He turned away from the road and looked at her, then smiled charmingly. He had very white teeth. "You look great. Really. Oh yeah, I brought this." He reached for the back seat, feeling around blindly before finding something and then placing it on Buffy's lap. It was a chocolate brown tank top with lace trim. The "sexy shirt."  
  
"You forgot it in my room. I was going to let you know about it when you called, but since you never did…well there it is."  
  
"Thanks. You know, I was in such a rush…I just…well, you know." Buffy looked every where except Jack's face.  
  
"I figured something must have come up, you were already gone when I awoke… I got your note." He shifted again. It seemed, Buffy noticed, that Jack often shifted when he was uncomfortable. Buffy sighed, as she did whenever things were disquieting. It is a much more dramatic thing to do.  
  
"That's good. I am glad you got the note…Jack." She tested the way his name felt on her tongue. It was a good name. He put his hand on her thigh as they approached the parking lot of the Bronze, and she studied him once again in contemplation. Jack was a good guy. A strong guy, a steady guy. Jack simply had to go.  
  
  
  
"Hey kids. Been waiting long?" Buffy approached the couch where Willow and Xander were already sitting. She was smiling widely and carrying something in her hand.  
  
"No, only a couple minutes. Hey…wasn't Jack supposed to come with you?" Willow asked, turning her head in search of him. Her red hair was cut short again, no longer than her chin, and her face was soft and clean.  
  
"Jack had to hit the road," Buffy informed them, sitting down in a big comfy chair.  
  
"Very clever. So, you dumped him?" Inquired Xander.  
  
"Thank you, and yes I did."  
  
Willow looked slightly confused. "But why? He seemed so nice and-"  
  
"Charming and steady and blah, blah, blah. Yeah I know. Been there, done that." Buffy finished. "He was just so…you know. Jack. I mean come on, the name alone says enough."  
  
"So, when did you break it to the poor devil?" Xander leaned forward slightly, eyebrows raised in question.  
  
"Just now. In the parking lot," Buffy stated in a matter of fact way.  
  
Xander let his head drop and hang before looking up in preparation for a sarcastic comment. "Wow…so you sleep with the guy, then let him drive you around before you break his sweet little heart. Need I remind you of Parker? You have now officially become his evil womanly counterpart."  
  
"Yeah. We should be calling you Parka…or something. Parkina? Parketta?" Willow looked at Xander for help.  
  
"Isn't a parka a coat? Or is it a shoe…" Buffy pondered.  
  
"I think it is a type of shoe. Probably the kind someone's Grandmother would wear." Xander answered. That all sat quietly until Buffy shook her head in dismissal of the subject and held up the shirt she had been carrying.  
  
"I got the 'sexy shirt' back, at least. I thought I had lost it, but I guess I forgot that I wore it a couple days ago when I went home with Jack."  
  
Xander looked at her. "The sexy…oh that shirt. I remember that shirt."  
  
"I bet Jack does too." Willow giggled.  
  
"No one forgets the 'sexy shirt'. It is sacred and timeless, containing powers not even the gods can understand."  
  
"Want me to put it in my bag?" Willow asked.  
  
Buffy carelessly rolled it up into a ball and tossed to her friend. She then turned to face Xander. "So, talk to me. It's what we come here every Friday night for. What is on the agenda for Xander Harris?"  
  
"Not much."  
  
"Not much?" Willow pushed Xander playfully. "This man just happens to have date scheduled for Sunday afternoon."  
  
"Oh Xander," cooed Buffy, "Another date with Anya? That is great…things are working out so well." Buffy glanced at Willow, still wearing a soft expression of relief and contentment. "Do you want to spend some time with me while he's gone, Will?" Ever since the incident, Buffy and Xander tried to keep Willow around at least one of the scoobs. Not out of suspicion, or distrust, but love and moral support.  
  
"No, but thanks anyway. Actually, I am going to the cemetery to visit Tara's grave." She took an unnecessary breath before continuing lightly. "Dr. Johnson says it is an important part of the healing process. Learning how to grieve and all that."  
  
"He's right." Xander nonchalantly rubbed Willow's leg. "How is Dawn?"  
  
"You know, she's good. Almost done with summer school…she killed another vamp last night. She is getting skilled with the whole 'slayage' thing. That makes four so far this summer."  
  
"She is pretty quick."  
  
"No kidding. I mean, that doesn't make the sight of her in possible danger any easier, but hey. Nothing is easy."  
  
"M'hmm" Willow agreed with a nod and raised eyebrows.  
  
"I hear ya," Xander added, raising his beer. Buffy and Willow smiled, and everyone clinked bottles after Buffy ungracefully opened hers. They took a long swallow. Life wasn't easy, but at least it was better.  
  
"So, do you think we should dance?" asked Willow. Buffy shrugged thoughtfully, checking out the crowd, and Xander snorted.  
  
"Why would we do that?"  
  
  
  
Clem sat sleeping in a chair, the TV murmuring softly. He moved his arm slightly, sometimes turning his head with a whisper, completely lost in a dream.  
  
The sound of the door to the crypt opening caused him to start awake. Spilling his nacho chips, he looked up, bathed in the light of the moon. A figure sauntered in, still cloaked in darkness. Twenty feet away, a rough and tired, British voice spoke.  
  
"My bike is outside. Bring it in."  
  
Clem nodded in silent acquiescence, running out the door, his expression that of surprise.  
  
Spike made his way in only a couple more steps before falling to his knees dramatically. Then, he collapsed. 


	2. Resolutions and Strange Circumstance

Disclaimer: I own none of this.  
  
Author's note: Ok, I realize that some of the things don't add up in this chapter concerning Dawn, but I did that on purpose. You will soon understand. Oh, and I know I said that I would only post every three or four days, but I am going away this weekend and since I have some extra chapters at hand, I thought I would give y'all something to chew on. And also because I like the button that shows the chapter selection. He he.  
  
  
  
  
  
Chapter Two  
  
-Resolutions and Strange Circumstance-  
  
  
  
  
  
Spike awoke to darkness, but the touch of silks and cottons against his bare chest told him that he was in his bed. Apparently Clem had gone as far as taking off his shirt before disposing Spike into his current location. Eyes already adjusted, he looked under the sheets. His pants were still on. Knowing this, he buried his head under a pillow in an attempt to diminish his pounding headache. Apparently smashing one's head on the floor in a dead faint does not do wonders.  
  
"Hey Spike…uh, I see you woke up."  
  
"Clem." Spike acknowledged from under the pillow, his voice muffled and groggy. "How long have I been asleep?"  
  
"Well I, hmm…I got you to your bed around midnight after you fainted…"  
  
"Yeah, thanks for that, Mate."  
  
"…And it's four o'clock now, so about fourteen hours. Not that long really, I mean considering…hmm. I could go…let you…" He trailed off.  
  
"So you know then." Spike came out from his seclusion and squinted at a nervous looking Clem who was holding an oil lamp. Shadows danced upon the charred and massacred half of the space, the rest had already been reassembled a while back. The light source dimly lit the laying form, causing deep ruts and valleys about his body. Spike looked haggard. His commonly bleached hair had faded greatly, it was untamed and curly, sandy locks with iced tips. His jaw and cheeks were rough with the beginnings of a beard. His skin seemed dark. Perhaps a trick of light.  
  
Clem swept his free arm in a grand gesture. "What? All I know…is that you are back and…While you were...gone…but no, that's not important…because now you are here, and…yeah." He hung his head and studied the ground for a moment. Then he looked up at Spike with pity and compassion. "I know."  
  
"Figured as much." Spike studied his hands, and then let them rest over his eyes.  
  
"How can you stand it…hearing it all the time?" Asked Clem.  
  
"I can't. I really can't." Spike left his hands on his face, as if in pain as he spoke. "It…it doesn't stop. Never, and sometimes it quickens, and I hate that…I can't bear hearing it move faster, picking up momentum, colliding with my mind, fighting my logic. I am so weak now. I just…don't know what I am going to do."  
  
"Does umm, does any one else know?"  
  
"You mean Buffy? No. You are the only one. Besides the bastard that did this to me."  
  
"I…I just can't believe it." Clem shook his head and began to head for the latter.  
  
"Neither can I. But this bleeding heartbeat reminds me every second."  
  
  
  
  
  
Buffy sat with Dawn at their dining room table, each of them mulling over some sheets of paper. Buffy's face held a contemplative frown and she had her chin rested on her fist.  
  
"They would really pay me to mentor? Last time I checked, it was more of a voluntary thing." Buffy's voice was doubtful.  
  
"Yeah, I mean, I think so. Why don't you call, what could it hurt?"  
  
"Nothing I guess. And it would be a good start to getting a steady job. I still can't believe Giles is paying the mortgage, I mean, wow. He's just so…"  
  
"Great?" Dawn finished for her.  
  
"Yeah." She looked of thoughtfully before snapping back to reality. "So anyway, you wouldn't mind me being at the High School with you?"  
  
"If it means you are at least one step closer to becoming completely self- sufficient, then no. I don't mind at all."  
  
"Good, then I am calling tomorrow morning. What is the number?"  
  
"I don't know." Dawn shrugged, "Check the phonebook or call information."  
  
"Hmmm…I think there are some phonebooks in the storage closet, I'll be right back." Buffy pushed herself away from the table and made her way leisurely in search of the books. At the closet she opened the door and began to push away some winter coats, when her hand came to rest on cool leather and the scent of cigarette smoke transcended the smell of dust and mothballs. She paused for a second and stared into the closet warily before reaching over and pulling out the black leather duster.  
  
Buffy turned to find Dawn staring at the object in her arms. Dawn reached out a little with her hand as if to touch it, and then pulled back quickly with a small "Oh."  
  
"When I first found out he had left it here, I meant to bring it back to Clem, so he could give it to him. I completely forgot that I still had it." Buffy spoke quietly.  
  
"What are you going to do with it now?"  
  
"What I was going to do before, return it to whoever is crypt sitting now."  
  
"Why?" asked Dawn.  
  
Buffy scoffed. "What else would I do with it? I don't want it here."  
  
"I can't believe he forgot it." Dawn looked at it solemnly, ignoring Buffy's attitude. "He never goes any where without it, you know? It's like…oh, I don't know. It just seems so odd. Maybe he left it here on purpose."  
  
Buffy looked at her sister squarely. "Or, maybe he was in a hurry to leave." She said, not unkindly. "I suppose I'll take care of this tomorrow too."  
  
They walked it over to the staircase and then placed it on the railing, before slowly proceeding outside. It was almost dark, time to kill.  
  
  
  
  
  
Xander held the phone close, staring ahead at Willow who was watching him carefully. He was talking to Anya once more before their date the next day, and Willow was trying to make sure he didn't mess things up.  
  
"Yeah the place we are going to is, uh, supposed to be pretty nice. I think you will like the atmosphere…it will be a good place to talk." He looked to Willow for encouragement. She nodded and gave him a thumbs up. He smiled back nervously before giving a small jump.  
  
"What's that? You're excited to see me? Great, well, I am excited too." He paused for a moment. "Of course I miss you…what do I miss about you?" Xander repeated her question and turned frantically back to Willow for help. Willow tried to mouth what to say, but Xander stared at her confused, as Willow began to tug a lock of hair in frustration.  
  
"The Band-Aid on my shoe?" He guessed. Willow hid her head in her arms as Xander reached for an explanation. "What? Uh, You see, I uh, keep a Band- Aid on my shoe, as a reminder of you…no, I am not kidding…It doesn't have anything written on it, that isn't part of the custom. It goes on my shoe because the foot…symbolizes…?"  
  
"Love." Willow hissed.  
  
"Love? Yes, because the foot symbolizes love and…hope." He spreads his hands in defense and annoyance. "Of course I'm alone."  
  
He finished seriously, with no help from Willow, who had left the room out of giddiness. "I really do miss you Anya, I hope you believe me. I want this to work." Xander smiled into the phone and ran his fingers through his hair out of relief. "Well, I am glad. Yeah, you too. Bye."  
  
Willow reentered the room as Xander hung up the phone. "You are never helping me talk to a girl again." He stated.  
  
"I think it went pretty well." She stuck out her lower lip and went to the fridge for some orange juice. At the counter she grinned to herself. "You do realize that you are going to have to meet her with a Band-Aid on your shoe tomorrow."  
  
Xander shook his head. "The things I do…"  
  
  
  
  
  
Spike ducked under a ray of light from the setting sun instinctively as he approached Clem. He was still somewhat grungy, but he had changed into a fresh pair of pants and a black tee. He carried a water bottle.  
  
"Get any more sleep?" Clem asked.  
  
"No." Spike sat down on the couch near Clem, who had positioned himself in the chair to face Spike and the TV at the same time. While Spike was away, Clem had acquired the old thing out of politeness so as to not sleep in Spike's bed. It proved useful. "I was too busy thinking."  
  
"What about?"  
  
"Everything. Mostly about myself though, and being alive again. Whether or not I should tell Buffy."  
  
Clem turned to face Spike completely. "Why wouldn't you?"  
  
"Because she hates me."  
  
"She came here after you left." That caught Spike's attention. "With her kid-sister. Dawn. Buffy wanted to see if you would look after her while she fought some new evil. When I told her you were gone she seemed…surprised." Clem noisily ate some chips, most likely the same ones from the night before.  
  
"Surprised…" Spike considered whether that was good or bad.  
  
"Dawn seemed disappointed that you were gone. All night, Spike this, and Spike that. She got me in trouble with that name."  
  
"And everything worked out alright? You said she had to fight something, No one was hurt or killed?"  
  
"I guess not." Clem shrugged his shoulders.  
  
"How do you figure?"  
  
"Well, the world hasn't ended, right?"  
  
"Oh, very good logic." Spike said sarcastically, and then stood up. Clem turned his attention back to the television.  
  
"I think I may need to make a visit to the Slayer's house. Clear up a few things."  
  
  
  
  
  
Buffy and Dawn stood back to back as two vampires circled them. They were both fledglings, but Dawn was, in a sense, a fledgling herself. Buffy whispered commands. One of the vamps was still ridden with dirt, fresh out of the grave. Her light brown hair was messy and she was wearing too much blue eye shadow. The other one, probably her sire, was short and held an air of annoyance. He was grinning widely.  
  
"The short one, something is wrong with his left leg, he limps. Take advantage of that. I'll take care of the other one." Buffy whispered.  
  
"Ok." Dawn whispered back, determination written all over her face.  
  
With a snarl, the woman charged first, going straight for Buffy in ignorance of how to fight. Buffy dealt a quick roundhouse kick to her face, causing her to fall backwards. At the same time, the other one ran awkwardly towards Dawn and she swiftly tripped him, stake in hand. Buffy continued to attack her opponent, ducking her wild swings and delivering a sharp jab to her ribs.  
  
"How are you doing?" Buffy turned her head and called out to Dawn, holding the Vampire by the neck and somewhat out of breath.  
  
"Great." She yelled back. She kicked the vamp in the stomach and then straddled him, backhanding him across the face with the blunt end of the stake. In the background she heard Buffy stake her vampire just as Dawn went in for the kill. Stake raised, she stared into the vampire's yellow eyes, when something a couple hundred yards away caught her attention.  
  
"Spike?" She questioned out of surprise.  
  
Suddenly, the vamp, which had regained his bearings, punched her and she flew back a couple feet, landing hard. He leaped up and bent over her, Dawn covered her face. Then she heard him scream and looked up to see Buffy's worried expression. A soft layer of dust was spread on and about her.  
  
Buffy pulled her up. "What happened? I thought you had everything under control." Her eyes were narrowed.  
  
"I thought I saw…I was distracted." Dawn brushed off her shirt and looked around for the rogue figure.  
  
"Dawn," Buffy began seriously, "You know you have to pay attention. This is real fighting, we can get real injuries, and really die. You can't forget that. Tell me that won't happen again, other wise, I'll have to stop bringing you with me." She touched Dawn's cheek tentatively, a bruise already beginning to surface.  
  
"It won't." Dawn said quickly with a wince. "I swear."  
  
Buffy nodded, and then looked around. "I want to get you involved, I really do, but sometimes I feel like I'm not doing the right thing…I think, you've seen enough action for tonight. I'll walk you back home, and finish up by myself."  
  
Dawn didn't protest as Buffy led the way. She looked back for a long moment as she left the grounds.  
  
  
  
  
  
At the house, Spike stopped and looked around. A light was on in the kitchen. He went up to the door and knocked and after waiting a few moments, He tried again to no prevail. He nervously tested the handle. The door was open.  
  
Spike stepped in cautiously, making his way to the light source. He suddenly stopped dead in his tracks. Dawn stood in the middle of the hallway staring at him intently. Her expression and her overall presence was flat, void of any spark or spirit, almost as if she blended in with the walls. He would have not even seen her had he not almost walked into her.  
  
"Your back." She stated.  
  
"Uh…yeah." He looked around. "Where's big sis?"  
  
"Patrolling."  
  
"Oh, well umm…don't tell her I was here, ok?" Having second thoughts, he began to back away. He didn't like the way Dawn was staring at him.  
  
"So, that's it. Find out about Buffy and then leave? Why don't you ever ask about me Spike? What, you don't care? I don't matter at all to you." Her voice was cold.  
  
"What?" Spike was caught off guard. "No, that isn't true. I spent all of last summer looking after you."  
  
"Sure. And as soon as Buffy came back, you left. It's always about Buffy. I'm just part of the package. Did you ever once come visit me or see how I was doing, after Buffy was back in control? No. You were too busy f--"  
  
"Dawn!" Spike interrupted. "What's going on with you?" He reached out to her.  
  
"Don't touch me!" She shrieked and leaped back. She glared at him. "What am I in your twisted world? Do you know how pathetic I was after you left? I actually missed you." She shook her head and rolled her eyes in disgust. "Though, I suppose I was never as pathetic as you really are. You couldn't even make it work with Buffy, the only person you seem to care about other than yourself."  
  
"But, you can't really mean that…" Spike began, confused and somewhat hurt.  
  
" I cared Spike. I don't know why, but I did. And you ignored me, the one who gave a damn. Just leave, you make me sick." She sneered.  
  
"What…?" Spike shook his head in disbelief, shocked that Dawn felt this way.  
  
"I said leave. You left without a word before, why can't you now?"  
  
Spike backed away as Dawn stared him down with malice. He half ran out of the house, leaving the door open. This, he concluded, was someplace he wasn't welcome.  
  
Outside, he looked back once more. The door was still open, and Dawn was no where to be seen. He shook his head and made his way back to the crypt.  
  
  
  
  
  
Buffy was walking with Dawn back from the cemetery, when their house came into view. Buffy walked close to her sister, who was pressing a hand to her tender cheek. The blond stopped suddenly at their lawn when she noticed the front door was ajar.  
  
"What?" Dawn asked.  
  
"The door. It's open. Was it locked when we left?"  
  
"I…I don't know."  
  
"Stay behind me." She walked ahead and went up the front steps.  
  
Carefully, Buffy eased the door open the rest of the way. Inside, everything seemed to be in place, a stray leaf slowly rolled across the hall, disrupting the dead silence. The moon cast an eerie shadow across the walls and the polished hard wood floors reflected dimly Buffy's form as she stepped inside. The kitchen emanated a warm glow that contrasted sharply with the cool sensation that held the house.  
  
"Stay here…I'm going upstairs." Buffy whispered. Her feet pounded lightly as she climbed the steps. On the second floor she quietly checked all the rooms, looking under beds and in closets. She found no one, nor any clue that someone had ever disrupted their home.  
  
"Nothing is here, just us." She informed Dawn, back on the first floor. "I think…I think I'm going to stay. I don't feel right leaving you alone right now."  
  
1.1 "Thanks." Dawn breathed. They stood in the hall together, looking about uncomfortably. The door was still open 


	3. Phone Calls and the Meetings

Chapter Three  
  
--Phone Calls and The Meetings—  
  
Early Sunday morning, Spike lay in his bed. It was dark in this part of the crypt, and Spike knew the dark, he understood it…or, at least he did once. And he was so cold, was it always this cold down here? He pulled out a cigarette and placed it in his mouth, then he lit it. He let the flame on his lighter linger for a moment, watching it dance and weave; small spirals of smoke caressed the air. Abruptly he flipped the top and extinguished the light, the room once more completely blanketed in darkness.  
  
He inhaled deeply, a stark orange glow appearing a couple inches away from his eyes. That was all he could see. He was blind in this world. A few months back he would have been able to see around the room without a problem. He closed his eyes to rid himself of the unfamiliar sensation of being utterly lost, but he could not escape it. He was lost in every form.  
  
While lying and smoking his cigarette, Spike thought. It was an ideal time for thinking, nothing to distract him. The curling smoke that rose from his parted lips beckoned his thoughts to come out into the open. He had many musings, but for once, they were not concentrated on his relationship with Buffy or his new…situation, instead he thought about Dawn. Mostly about what she said the night before, and how he should feel about it. To his shame, he felt as though she may have been true in all that she had ranted.  
  
Spike didn't want to face any truths, more than he didn't want to face Dawn again. He hadn't even looked at his reflection yet. Sometimes when passing a window, or glancing at the chrome on his motorcycle, Spike would see something, a shadow of a figure that mirrored his movements. He would look away, ignoring the evidence of his existence, denying the presence that he had not experienced for hundreds of years. He tried to deny daylight also. Perhaps being in the sun for the first time should have been a mind- altering experience. It hadn't though, his trek through the dessert had been witnessed through a clouded looking glass, a fearful daze. No, his epiphany had come once he was back under the stars, back in the world of familiarity. It was only under the night sky that he realized that he had changed so much. He remembered his first night.  
  
Spike had collapsed after the ritual and did not reawaken until day. By nightfall he was past the poor African town, and he was tired, hungry. The night was very cold, and he had collapsed with his face in the sand. When he rolled over, the sky seemed heavy and old, and when he looked up, it was not through a clear view, but one that was clouded by his white breath. The air was like silk; he could feel every inch of his body that it touched. The moon was surreal, though that wasn't a change, and neither was the sky. For such a long time Spike and the sky had passed through time without change, the same face, the same instincts. Sometimes there was rain and tears, sometimes their was heat and passion, storm and hate, silence and fear… that night, that night the sky was the same, but for once, Spike was not. Spike was growing and altering with every second that he lived. That night the sky was very quiet, and there were no words for the feelings and thoughts that Spike was experiencing. That was also when he understood that he had the same mind. There was no daylight inside of him, this human held only the night.  
  
Spike sat still for a long minute, so quiet that he could hear the blood pounding in his ears, feel the heart beating in his chest. It made him faint. He hummed "Piano Man" by Billy Joel in attempts to drown out his awareness. It worked a little.  
  
  
  
  
  
Buffy quickly wrote down the number in the phone book before shutting it loudly. She was getting ready to call the school to inquire about the mentoring position. She wondered if she would still consider taking on the job if they told her that it was only voluntary, because somewhere in the back of her mind she knew it would be. She pushed the thought aside and decided she would make the decision when the time came.  
  
Dawn stepped lightly into the kitchen just as Buffy was standing up. She noticed the telephone book.  
  
"Are you going to call about the job?" She asked leaning against the counter.  
  
"Yeah, In a little bit, I just thought I would take a minute to get into my professional mode." Buffy rolled her neck and shoulders and cracked her knuckles.  
  
"Your professional mode?" Dawn raised an eyebrow.  
  
"M'hmm. You know, the state of mind I tap into when ever I am doing something important, like getting a job, or speaking to my insurance agent. It is supposed to make me seem mature and capable."  
  
"Were you in your 'professional mode' when you were fired from the DMP?" Dawn questioned her sister innocently.  
  
Buffy frowned and stuck out her lower lip slightly. "Oh fine, you joke now. Just you wait."  
  
"Wait for what?"  
  
"That doesn't matter right now. Just make sure you are waiting while I find something for you to wait for. Go play with some toys or something. I can't be distracted."  
  
"Ah…yes. Professional mode awaits. Good luck." Dawn left the room grabbing an apple off the counter and tossing it up into the air on her way out.  
  
Buffy stood very still, she breathed in and exhaled heavily. She looked at the telephone and picked it up, bringing it with her to the kitchen table as she sat down primly. She cleared her throat and looked over at the number she had written. She dialed the digits and fidgeted nervously as the phone rang, one, two, three times. Finally a woman answered.  
  
"Hi, my name is Buffy Summers. I am inquiring about the mentoring positions that the school is offering right now. Who should I speak with that would be able to answer any questions that I might have?" Damn she was good. Well, ok. Not that good.  
  
"Oh, ok. For the next three days? From two to five, at the school's guidance wing. All right. Thank you." She hung up the phone with a sigh of relief just as Dawn walked back in. She had been waiting outside the room.  
  
"So…that is professional mode…pretty good. What did they say?"  
  
"They're holding interviews from Monday to Wednesday. I guess I will stop by tomorrow to pick up an application, and then I'll go in again on Tuesday."  
  
"I'm gonna be at school tomorrow, remember? Do you want me to just pick one up for you then?"  
  
"Oh, ok. That would be great. Thanks Dawn." Said Buffy gratefully.  
  
"No problem. So, what are you going to do now?"  
  
Buffy frowned thoughtfully and then her lips turned down even more as she remembered what had to be done. "I have to make a stop at the crypt to drop off Spike's jacket. I'll be back in a little while."  
  
"Oh…well, tell Clem I said hi."  
  
Buffy nodded and walked to the railing where Spike's duster still rested since the previous night. She threw it over her arm and walked out the front door.  
  
  
  
  
  
Willow stood in the kitchen packing away her lunch into her draw string bag when the phone rang.  
  
"Hello?" She answered.  
  
"Hi, Willow? This is Anya, Is Xander there?"  
  
"Umm…no he left about five minutes ago. Why, is something wrong?" Willow's tone touched on that of concerned.  
  
"No not really. I just have some…unexpected business to attend to, and I can't make it for brunch."  
  
"Ah…" Willow sounded in understanding. Business, of the vengeance variety.  
  
"Willow what can I do? If he is already there…I can't let him wait for me. It will mess everything up. We are trying so hard."  
  
Willow could almost hear Anya wilting. Her compassion overtook her.  
  
"You know what Anya…don't worry about it. I was on my way out anyway, I'll stop by the restaurant and let him know that you were very sorry you couldn't make it-"  
  
"And that I'll call him tonight." Anya finished. "The place is called 'The Cabbage Rose', it's about fifteen minutes from here." She paused and resumed speaking with sincerity highly audible in her voice. "Thank you so much, Willow. You're really helping me out. I've got to run, bye." Click.  
  
Willow sighed and grabbed her bag as she went out the door.  
  
  
  
  
  
Xander stepped into the restaurant and scanned the crowd of tables for Anya. His eyes almost passed her by without taking notice of her presence. She was put together, but she seemed dull, almost drab. Her expression was solemn.  
  
"Can I help you sir?" A hostess asked him.  
  
"No," He said, not turning her way, "My…someone is waiting for me." He walked to Anya's table. She regarded him coldly.  
  
"Hey Anya…is something wrong? He reached for her hand, but she pulled it away quickly.  
  
"Don't." She said simply. Xander faltered for a moment, confused, he sat down.  
  
"Have you been waiting here long?"  
  
"Of course. I am always waiting for you." She looked away.  
  
"What are you talking about?"  
  
"Like you don't know." She sneered. "The wedding, the apartment, the money. I am always waiting, Xander. Waiting for you to catch up, to finally go somewhere without me dragging you by the hand."  
  
"Anya…we talked about this a long time ago. I'm still young, I'm not ready for all of these responsibilities…why are we going over this again?" Xander stared with his head tilted to one side, as if listening for the voice of reason.  
  
"Because I don't understand it, Xander. No matter how many times you explain it, I will never understand. It's not because you aren't ready, can't you see that? It's because you don't want to be ready. You…you have lived through so much. You don't even begin to consider the fact that you will never be any readier than you are today. I am just so…frustrated with you. When will you get it? Because I have, and you may want to wait, but I shouldn't have to. Why am I waiting for you Xander Harris? Why?" Anya glared at him, waiting for a response.  
  
"Because…a part of you must think this is worth something." Xander's voice held a note of pleading.  
  
"Remind me."  
  
"Don't you want this to work out?"  
  
"That isn't the question Xander. The question is, will you ever let 'this' work out."  
  
"I can't believe you." He muttered and stood up.  
  
"You have to believe in something, besides the fact that you are our relationship is a failure."  
  
Xander shook his head and stared at the floor before looking up into her eyes. He found nothing in them. His own were stricken with pain and surprise. He studied her and then abruptly pushed back his chair, stalking out of the restaurant.  
  
Outside, he went to his car.  
  
"Xander!" Someone called his name. He turned around, it was Willow.  
  
"Xander, wait!" She ran up to him. "Anya called a little while ago, she said she couldn't come, and that she would call you." She stopped to take a breath. Xander continued to walk to his car, but stopped to speak.  
  
"Well, obviously she changed her mind, because I just sat down with her inside, and I think she just broke things off." He continued on to his car, the sun glaring shrewdly off his dark hair. Willow didn't follow him.  
  
"What…no. That can't be…there is no way she could have gotten here before me." Willow scanned the small parking lot, there were not that many cars covering the sandy ground.  
  
"Her car isn't here." She called.  
  
"What?" Xander turned, now at his car, and Willow ran over to him.  
  
"Her car isn't here," She repeated. "Xander, you left before she did?" He nodded. "Then why isn't her car here?"  
  
Suddenly Xander ran over to the main entrance. Inside he scanned the intimate crowd of people. He spotted the table he had been seated at. Anya wasn't there. He went back outside to a waiting Willow.  
  
"She…she isn't inside. And she wouldn't have…you know, used her powers, it is too public a place."  
  
Willow looked at him. "Do you think that was really Anya inside? I don't think she would have broken things off like that, and this whole situation, it isn't making any sense. She called just before I left, and she was genuinely sorry she couldn't come."  
  
"I don't know…who that was." Doubt tinged his voice. "I would like to think that wasn't her."  
  
"Maybe we should go back home. I'll try and call her, you tell me everything that happened."  
  
"What about your visit to the cemetery?"  
  
"That can wait, your more important right now." Xander nodded, and waited as Willow paid her cab driver and informed him that she no longer needed a ride. Then she joined Xander in his car to return to Sunnydale.  
  
  
  
  
  
The early afternoon sun lit the graveyard pleasantly, warmth spreading down Buffy's spine. The black duster in her arms was hot, and it seemed to be glaring at the sun. As Buffy drew closer to Spike's crypt she became uncomfortable, it had been a long time since she had last been.  
  
At the foreboding entrance she quietly slid open the door and stepped inside. The sun light danced upon the grey scene.  
  
"Clem?" She called quietly. No one answered. Suddenly, she heard something. She stopped breathing, it was a rough but melodious humming, and it grew louder as who ever it was came up from the lower level. She began to leave, but at the last moment she turned around. The humming stopped.  
  
  
  
  
  
Dawn hung up the phone. She didn't like it, hiding these calls from her sister. It made her feel morose, but she knew that Buffy wouldn't understand, at least not at first; not right now.  
  
She walked to her desk and pulled out a fat textbook. Dawn had in a couple hours for English, and she had to study. Summer school was very irritating. She looked down at the Shakespearean terms, and after ten minutes she realized she had only read a single line. She hated studying, she really did. She was distracted so easily.  
  
"Ooh…shiny object." She said to herself and leaned back in her chair, flipping a dime. Maybe she would be able to concentrate if she ate something, Dawn thought. She walked to the kitchen and made herself a bowl of cereal. She considered bringing it upstairs to study as she ate, but quickly dismissed the idea. It was too risky. So she stayed in the safe kitchen away from her evil book.  
  
After eating she did some laundry, and then took a shower, and then painted her toenails. On the last toe, she looked up guiltily at her ominous desk. It was time to get to work. Grudgingly she eased herself up off the floor and sat down. She glanced at her clock. The bright green digits read 3:30. Buffy had been gone almost three hours, she should have been back by now. 


	4. Lacking the Awaited Words

Chapter Four  
  
-Lacking the Awaited Words-  
  
.  
  
Anya listened with boredom as the woman talked continuously. She sometimes glanced at her watch or sipped her cherry cola languidly. The woman was around her mid to late thirties, with frizzy black hair and olive skin. She was very tall, and Anya felt she seemed fully capable of enacting her own vengeance. Besides that, she was also very pregnant, and with crazy harmones running amuck, this woman could probably handle the cases of six or seven other scorned women as well.  
  
Anya let out a long sigh as the woman yammered on insistently. For the past hour, she had been merely complaining. When would the woman just make her god forsaken wish?  
  
"So, there I am, laying in bed, eight months pregnant, and the bastard doesn't want to get married! Said he met someone new, well I don't care if people now a days have children without walking down the alter, just because Rachel and Ross did it on 'Friends', doesn't mean it's right. You know, if that stupid son of a B- even thinks of-"  
  
Anya suddenly leaned forward, feeling the climax coming. Ok, she thought, wait…here it comes, come on, come on…ugh. Anya was ready to tear hair, she leaned back in the chair as the woman described her boy friend's annoying eating habits. Anya glanced at her watch again. She wanted to call Xander, but there were women to seek, and vengeance to wreak.  
  
  
  
  
  
It took Buffy a moment to realize that the figure staring back at her was Spike. It was his skin that she noticed first, it was tan, impossibly dark…how could it be so dark? She asked herself. The voice in her head was speaking so fast, she couldn't keep up, and suddenly she felt tired. It was definitely him of course, but his hair was different too. The roots had grown in and it was a mess of curls, sandy brown locks laced with white. There was a goatee too, a rough growth of hair around his jaw that made his body a blend of calming earth tones, which only accentuated his eyes. They were blue and intense, an extreme difference in warmth compared to the rest of his features. His eyes were cold, not the kind of cold that reminds one of a hate or anger, but they were frigid. Like ocean water or a night sky. They reminded her of the night. His body was day. How ironic.  
  
Her mouth opened and closed a few times before she actually spoke. "How…uh, when…You're back." She informed him dumbly.  
  
"Yeah…I've been here a couple of days now." He still didn't move. Caught in motion, his arm was half raised in the air, his hand held a water bottle.  
  
Buffy was thrown off guard, hearing his voice made him real. That was Spike. Frustration, confusion, anger, all swept over her in waves. In the end, she was only left with honesty. She spoke with out sifting her thoughts, simply letting the words spill from her lips.  
  
"I think I may hate you." She said quietly. Why so quietly? The words are harsh enough without screaming.  
  
"I know." He shrugged.  
  
"Do you care if I do?"  
  
"Yeah. And I would care if you didn't."  
  
"You're different." She stated.  
  
"I'm sorry." He said. "Not for being different, that is. I'm just sorry." He looked her in the eyes. Buffy could have sworn an evening breeze stirred the hair hanging loosely on the back of her neck when he did so.  
  
"I am so sorry." He shook his head in frustration and sat on his couch. Buffy didn't join him. She still held his coat.  
  
"Maybe you are. I'll never know."  
  
"You don't know what has happened to me."  
  
"Are you going to tell me?" Her voice was impartial, she sounded as though she didn't give a damn. Perhaps she didn't, her mind was so weighted. She wasn't prepared for this moment, she wanted to feel beautiful and witty when she had to confront Spike. She wanted to feel in control. Instead, she was tired and surprised, still confused about how the scene should play out. He shouldn't have come back.  
  
"I figure there isn't really a reason not to."  
  
"Then say what ever you have to say." Reluctantly she closed the door behind her, shutting out the sun, and walked over to his chair. She didn't lean back.  
  
"I don't know where to begin."  
  
"Begin with the part where you run out of my house after trying to rape me." Her voice was fierce, her words clipped. Spike winced.  
  
"I went to Africa. For a…fix, I suppose you could call it. I visited this demon, and he interpreted my dilemma as he wished. Went through a series of sodding tests, won my prize, and now I am back…very different. It's difficult…to put to words, though anyone else could probably say it easy enough." A slender ray of light escaped from the far, boxy window and fell near his leg. Spike slowly crept his hand forward and let it fall across the light's path.  
  
"Do you understand what I am trying to tell you?" He asked. They both watched his hand, Buffy's breath caught. As he twisted it in the light, letting it dance over the different angles, Buffy slowly stood up. Her eyes were wide with surprise, her lips twitched indecisively.  
  
"What…what did you do?"  
  
"There are too many answers to that question, Buffy."  
  
"No…don't say my name. Just…stop. Just stop." Buffy paced, the duster left alone on the chair. She couldn't register any full or coherent thoughts. She…was she angry? Confused.  
  
"Did you do this because of me?" She asked, somewhat afraid of the answer. Would Spike go so far as coming back to life because he believed in true love?  
  
"In a sense…this isn't what I asked for." He rubbed his unshaven jaw, leaning forward and resting his head on his hand.  
  
"What did you ask for, Spike?" Buffy snapped. She seemed to spark, her exhaustion had deteriorated and now she glowed.  
  
"Are you going to kill me if I tell you?" He asked her very seriously.  
  
"I don't know."  
  
Spike shrugged and continued. Apparently he didn't care. "I am not sure why, but when I left…I was so angry at myself. I was possessed, I don't know…I couldn't get those images out of my head, your face, your voice…your eyes. I kept seeing your eyes looking up at me, a part of me that wasn't coherent. And there was nothing in them, I didn't hold a reflection, vampires are shadows of this world…I couldn't see what was hurting you. All along it was me. I couldn't bear the thought that it was still me."  
  
Buffy turned as she tried to fight away the memories of that night. The moon had been bright.  
  
"I suppose I placed some of that anger on you. Your mere existence. So I set off in hopes of removing the chip. Let myself create chaos and the like." He watched her reactions carefully before continuing. She sat back down with a sigh.  
  
"I think…on the way there, I didn't really know what I wanted. I wanted things to change between us, I just didn't really know how. So the demon made the bloody decision for me. Or maybe he saw it deep inside of my heart, that sort of mystical bull. Either way, he granted me a soul, and with it was humanity."  
  
"You…you have a soul too?" Buffy was surprised. She hadn't even considered that possibility.  
  
"Yeah…what did you think?"  
  
  
  
  
  
Back at the apartment, Willow attempted Anya's number several times without getting through. Xander tapped his fingers nervously against the coffee table. Buffy wasn't home either, Dawn had said she had just left. Why does it seem the people who should carry a cell phone, never do?  
  
"How do we know she wasn't just really angry with me?" Xander asked, still not entirely convinced of the situation.  
  
"Xander. That was not Anya, who ever you were speaking to…it couldn't have been." Willow stated, sounding convinced.  
  
"How do you know?"  
  
" I just do." She saw his hopeless face, and sat down beside him, holding his hands. "Look, you didn't hear her on the phone, I did. She still cares. She wants the two of you together just as much as you do. You are really lucky Xander, we are going to figure out who or what that was. Ok?"  
  
Xander nodded. It was remarkable how in control Willow was. After her attempts on ruining the world, she had been in shambles. It was still impossible for her to share everything with her counselors and psychologist, but they understood the premise of her mental dilemma, and her progress over the past three months was phenomenal. No matter what Willow's situation was, it is fairly simple to understand. Death equals pain. The guilt was extremely hard, the sadness was hard, but she overcame most of it, and that was good. Now, if only he could make it to at least five dates with Anya, then he would feel worthy of being in Willow's presence.  
  
  
  
  
  
"I don't know what to think, Spike. My life is running fairly smooth…you have no idea what happened after you left. And now you are back from…god knows what kind of experience, as a human…you have a soul…and now I don't know how to feel. I don't think you realize how much I want to hate you, how much I feel like I am supposed to hate you." Buffy ran her fingers through her hair in frustration and emotion. "Why isn't this easy?"  
  
"Buffy…I am so sorry."  
  
"Why do you keep saying that? I hear you." Buffy was almost shouting, and Spike jumped up, his voice raised.  
  
"I know you hear me, but are you listening? At all? I can't even begin to describe how sorry I am. And I know…believe me, I know that I can't make any excuses. But right now, this very second, I feel like I am grabbing at air. I feel like I am not getting through to you!" He was pacing, he could feel his heart beating faster and faster.  
  
"You don't deserve to get through to me!" Buffy was near tears, and Spike strode over and knelt down in front of her. She turned away.  
  
"Tell me you hate me." He begged.  
  
"Why?" Her hands were shaking.  
  
"Because I can't stand wondering, I need to know. I need to hear it." He looked up at her, his eyes frantically searching her face for clues.  
  
"I don't hate you." She whispered. "I want to. I really do. Believe me, I am so hurt by you. You didn't stop Spike. You just…didn't."  
  
"I know." His head hung. "But there's nothing I can do."  
  
There was a long moment of silence before Buffy spoke. "Does it hurt." She asked.  
  
"What?"  
  
"The soul."  
  
"The soul…souls aren't worth a dime. Anyone can have a soul, doesn't make them a good person." He stayed kneeling before her in a half slouch. He looked up at the ceiling. "I could have handled a soul…it's the humanity that I can't stand. Humanity…" His eyes crinkled with the beginning of a smile, though his voice was bitter and tinged with irony. "That is something you doesn't come across much anymore. It is so delicate, the balance I mean. All the time, people are pushing the envelope, doing things that tip the scale. Humanity is the package, a soul is only the ribbon."  
  
"Then…you don't think any differently, feel any remorse? But Angel-"  
  
"Don't bring him into this. I am not Angel. I feel the same emotions, regrets, sorrow, what have you, since before the soul. I don't always know what I am talking about, what I am doing. This is proof of that." He placed a hand over his heart, pointing out his mistake. "I am not a bloody marvel, I just call it as I see it." He stood up and walked away.  
  
Buffy followed him, unwilling to let the issue go. "All those people, Spike, dead. You can't tell me you don't feel sorry."  
  
"I don't feel sorry Buffy. Stop asking me to deny what I was. I don't regret what I did. It is called survival."  
  
"You tortured, maimed, raped…that is not survival."  
  
"You torture my love, maim my body, and rape my mind. And, to top off the list, you used me." Spike stated. "What I did was in my nature."  
  
Buffy stood in a stunned silence as he circled around and lingered behind her. His eyes lit with their old ferocity, but he merely bent over and cautiously whispered in her ear. "I was a vampire then, so what's your excuse?"  
  
Buffy turned in anger, ready to scream back a retort, but his eyes were lost, so cold against the hot landscape of his face.  
  
That was her mistake. She looked him in the eyes. For a moment, she forgave him for what he did, for who he was, and for what he wanted. She locked lips with him fiercely and he gave into her. His rough beard rubbed against her face, she could feel his heart hammering in his chest.  
  
As he savagely led her to the bottom level of the crypt, she was briefly coherent. He had never said he loved her, and for that she was thankful. 


	5. Same Old Thing

Chapter Five  
  
-The Same Old Thing-  
  
  
  
Buffy yawned and stretched, her arms reached for the air in handfuls, her foot delicately rubbing the back of her calf. She suddenly became aware of the arm draped across her middle, and the steady breath caressing her neck. Realization settled in. She had slept with him. After all that happened between them, she had once again forsaken logic, thrown herself into the arms of distraction, and succumbed to temptation. She didn't even remember being tempted, all she could recall was discovering someone with as much anger and contempt as she. Feelings locked up inside deeper than what should be possible. They had both let them loose, smashing open the doors to their hearts.  
  
What she did remember was dark and fanciful. When the wine-coloured sheets were thrown into the air billowing about as though being spilled over their bodies, and the pre-lit candles flaring and dancing in the confusion, clothes torn and thrown. Tears were streaming, she had tasted his misery, salt mingled with the lilting scent of spice that desperately clung to every inch of his body.  
  
The darkness had rippled, gasps played out like violins against the stark silence of the room. In desperation she had drawn blood at his ear with her teeth. All this she recalled with subtle surprise, and wondered if he, too, had forgotten his name, who he was, why he was… During their clash there was nothing…and absolutely everything.  
  
Pulling the sheets around herself, she sat forward. Pieces of wavy hair fell across her eyes dramatically. For a moment she felt beautiful, playing the part of the desperate lover draped softly in the glow of candles and darkness, silks clinging to her every movement. She felt her eyelashes move slowly behind her hair and she relished the hesitant motion. The laying form next to her stirred.  
  
Quietly, Buffy slipped out of the sheets, breaking the spell. Naked, she stepped lightly across the room and retrieved her clothing. She dressed carefully, pushing her hair away from her eyes. The blond locks were sticky with sweat, her cheeks flushed. Even in this dank area, the hot day made itself known. Buffy allowed herself one more glance at Spike before stealing away towards the harsh daylight.  
  
  
  
Xander dialed again. The phone rang a couple times until Dawn finally answered. Buffy still wasn't home. Dawn didn't know where she was.  
  
"It's going to be soon, Xander…she wouldn't leave Dawn alone that long…she would have at least called to check in on her." She spoke to Xander from her seat on the couch, looking up at him as he paced.  
  
"I know…it's just that I can't stand not knowing if that was her."  
  
Willow didn't know how to respond. She watched him walk back and forth, twiddling her thumbs.  
  
Xander picked up the phone to call Anya. After several rings, she finally answered. Surprised, Xander asked her to come over. There was a "situation."  
  
"She'll be over in ten minutes." Xander told Willow after hanging up. Willow nodded. He sat down next to her and Willow rubbed his back in a comforting manner. They both stared straight ahead.  
  
  
  
  
  
"Buffy, where were you?" Dawn asked as Buffy came through the door. Her sister looked exhausted and disheveled.  
  
"What? Oh, I was…I went to the crypt. To drop off the coat." She also appeared to be flustered.  
  
"Well, did something happen? You were gone for hours." Dawn spoke to her sister's back as she followed her upstairs. In front of the bathroom Buffy stopped and turned to the younger girl.  
  
"Nothing happened, I just…ran into some trouble. Everything is fine now. " Buffy lied. "I'm sorry I took so long getting back…did you get to school ok?"  
  
"Yeah, I picked you up an application. Its downstairs on the counter." Dawn paused. "Xander called. He wants you to call back right away."  
  
"I'll call him when I am out of the shower." With that, Buffy shut the door. Dawn frowned at the spot Buffy had been, and then went downstairs.  
  
Stripping down to nothing, Buffy stepped into the bath. The heat of the water surpassed that of the air, cool water seeming inappropriate for some reason. Clouds of steam surged around her, giving the image of her body a heavenly essence.  
  
She faced the spout, letting the water stream over her face with eyes sealed shut, and she then leaned on her forearm against the wall. Breathing deeply, she sniffed, droplets of water falling from her lashes and nose.  
  
Small rivulets of water cast webs about her body. They formed paths with the touch of previous fingers and lips in mind. Phantom kisses laced her spine.  
  
A Dave Mathew's Band CD played in the background. The guitars and violins clashed and rose to a climax as Buffy slowly slid to the bottom of the bath. Her face covered by dripping strands that escaped into her mouth. She cried for a short time, soft sobs that shook her shoulders, and then her breathing steadied. She turned off the shower and stepped onto a plush bathmat that enveloped her toes. She slipped into a silk robe as a refreshed sigh escaped her lips.  
  
  
  
  
  
Dawn, Willow, Buffy, Xander and Anya sat in the living room of Buffy's house. Dawn noticed that after cleaning up, Buffy had visibly lightened, her eyes were still tired and she still held an air of exhaustion, but her mood was crisp and appropriate though a tad somber. Dawn still didn't know where Buffy had been for that lasting period of time.  
  
It was late, almost eleven, and the group had been debating the day's circumstance with out making any true conclusions. Buffy idly stroked Dawn's hair as she rested her head on her older sister's shoulder. This, Dawn concluded, was not the interesting part of being included.  
  
Xander hadn't been able to contact Buffy until only an hour and a half before he arrived with Willow and Anya in tow. Buffy had gone patrolling, this time she had insisted on going alone, and then she returned to find Dawn practically waiting at the door with the phone. Xander apparently considered the matter very important.  
  
Willow broke the silence. "I've looked over this book, and there are a couple creatures capable of shape shifting…though what ever was taking on the appearance of Anya, it didn't seem to be concerned with injuring Xander…at least not physically."  
  
This one," She pointed out the black and white sketch of a small, rather garish looking demon with a feminine body and wilting wings. She continued after Anya began to nod in silent recognition. "is called a…Vidrio Demon. 'Vidrio' is actually Spanish for the word glass… apparently, the Demon was first discovered in Spain…during the fourteen hundreds. The demon had always been considered somewhat of a myth, but it was during this time that a warlock actually captured one. He was only able to study it for a short time before it escaped. They claimed that the form the demon wore was transparent almost, dull, clouded, like glass. The eye easily passes over it. The demon's magics only last for so long, the longest period of time being an hour. That is why their projected image is so weak, though easily mistaken for real."  
  
Willow passed the book to Buffy's waiting arms. She studied the picture of the lovely creature as Xander spoke.  
  
"But this…fake Anya, the things she said. How could this demon possibly know anything about me or my relationship with Anya."  
  
"Well…it is possible that this demon contains telepathic properties…the ability to tap into your memory." She frowned for a moment. "That still wouldn't explain why she would choose to say what she did. See, as far as we know, the Vidrio demon is only female, meaning she uses her powers to lure men into her bed."  
  
"Hey…isn't that what those weird flying demon bird women do? You know, the ones with the wings and the boobs…they're called…what, herpes?" Xander asked.  
  
"Harpies." Anya corrected idly.  
  
"Uh, yeah. That's it."  
  
Willow rolled her eyes sarcastically at her friend. "Anyway, what ever you saw today at the restaurant did not seem like it was trying to seduce you."  
  
"Still," Buffy began "This seems like the best guess we have so far. Willow, if you want to continue research with out us, you can, otherwise, it is getting late and I think we can all get together again tomorrow night. Same time?"  
  
Everyone nodded their head. They all said their good-byes, and then Xander, Willow and Anya went out the door. Buffy and Dawn went upstairs, Dawn moaning with exhaustion in time with each step as Buffy laughed good- naturedly while dragging her up.  
  
  
  
As they went out the door, Xander caught Anya's arm, stopping her in mid step. Willow went ahead alone, turning once when she realized that no one was following. She paused slightly when she saw that Xander wanted to talk to Anya. A small smile escaped onto her lips and she continued to the car alone.  
  
Anya turned around expectantly her eyebrows raised, her lips slightly parted. Xander held her hands, savoring the feeling of them enveloped in his own. The porch light lit Anya's eyes grandly.  
  
"Anya…am I holding you back?" Xander asked, the words from that morning still haunting him.  
  
"What do you mean…" Anya's expression was quizzical and slightly defensive.  
  
"Am I holding you back? Like, could you be moving forward in life…getting married, having kids…"  
  
"Xander, we've already talked about this." She began to pull away towards the car.  
  
"I know…" He pulled her back gently. "I know we have. But…I've been thinking, and we talked, but did we really move forward? I mean…we are still angry. At least I am. Are you?"  
  
Anya looked away, her brow drawn down and a morose expression on her face. She didn't answer.  
  
"I've let you down." Xander stated. "And you…you let me down too. When you became a vengeance demon again, and when you slept with Spike…"  
  
Anya began to protest, but Xander softly spoke over her.  
  
"Its ok…I understand now, or at least, I'm ready to understand. And, I want you to know that…I am going to be ready for other things too, someday." Anya looked up at him, their hands still clasped. Soft breezes swept through the air and the crickets sang with passion and mourning. The very stars seemed ready to fall out of the sky, and the swaying tree branches beckoned them closer. Wind charms hanging from the house made soft the silence of the night with their song.  
  
"I am just asking…do you still want to wait…for me to catch up."  
  
Taking a deep breath, Anya answered. "You did let me down Xander, a lot. Maybe we should have talked about this more, our feelings about…us. And…I have grown a lot. I am fully capable now of living by myself and leading a perfectly normal…human, life. The only thing is…I don't want to go on with out you. I am not ready to let go of what we have."  
  
Xander smiled and Anya did so too, they touched their foreheads together. "Your car is back at my place." Xander commented, tracing her jaw with his finger.  
  
"I can drive it home in the morning." Whispered Anya. Together they walked back to the car, very little left to drag down their hearts. 


	6. There is No Conclusion

Chapter Six  
  
-There is No Conclusion-  
  
  
  
  
  
Xander opened his eyes, squinting into the late morning sunlight that filtered through the windows. His sheets rustled pleasantly and then he turned over to see that Anya was waking also. She yawned and stretched languidly.  
  
"Morning," She murmured. Her eyes remained half closed, her smile warm and welcoming. Her hair was a disaster and Xander grinned.  
  
"Hey." He watched as Anya tiredly leaned forward, pulling sheets up around her and picking up the clock on the nightstand by the bed. Her bare back was soft and he ran his fingers up and down her spine. A bird chirped somewhere, and the apartment next door was playing some up lifting jazz.  
  
"Hmmm…I was supposed to be at the Magic Shop three hours ago."  
  
"I don't have to go to the site until two." Xander said watching her. She snuggled up to him.  
  
"Well…I am already late. I suppose staying another hour or two couldn't hurt…is Willow here?"  
  
"Nope. At the cemetery. It's just you, me, and us."  
  
"Us. That's nice. Just us." Anya smiled again. He loved her smile. Both of them grinning ridiculously, they threw the sheets over their heads and made sure to spend some quality 'us' time.  
  
  
  
  
  
Buffy stepped through the front doors of the school. Her hair was straightened with a punk flair, her eyes smoky and large against her otherwise placid, though slightly sardonic expression. Wearing a black knee length skirt with a white button down shirt and saucy sandals, Buffy strutted into the guidance wing. She was all business, lips pursed, hips swaying, how long since she had allowed her hips room to sway? It felt…wonderful.  
  
There were quite a few people in the halls, mostly faculty preparing for the students who would soon be entering back into the school year. Only a couple people were waiting outside of an office with a sloppy sign that read "Interviews, 2-5." Buffy quickly checked with a secretary to make sure she was at the right place. She was.  
  
Buffy sat down if one of the few chairs left. Sunlight fell upon her face from one of the many windows. A couple of the seated men eyed her appreciatively. Buffy smiled back slyly.  
  
Half an hour after arriving, it was finally Buffy's turn to enter into the office. A stout woman in her mid forties stepped out of the office to call her in. The woman seated herself behind the desk and Buffy closed the door before joining her. Miss. Johnson, her nametag read, wore her glasses on the tip of her nose and read Buffy's application.  
  
"Unfortunately, Sunnydale does not have a mentoring program. We are forced to interview applicants for each individual position." Miss. Johnson said to Buffy in between reading. Buffy nodded, surprised by the sudden comment. She brushed her hair away from her face.  
  
"Now, Miss. Summers, it appears that this would be your first time mentoring. Are you prepared to go through the training required to be able to fulfill this position?"  
  
"Oh, of course." Buffy answered.  
  
"I see you attended High School in Sunnydale, that is good. You live nearby…You were recently fired from a job?"  
  
Buffy winced. "Well, it was…my boss realized that it wasn't the job for me. Nothing extreme, I just…didn't fit in." Buffy's sharp mood began to dull.  
  
"I see…" She didn't sound convinced. "You have very little experience with the work force, didn't finish college…what makes you think you are fit for this position?"  
  
"Well…I…I have a younger sister, Dawn. She attends here, and I also only graduated a few years ago, so I relate and can understand what most of the students are experiencing. I have full guardianship of my little sister, I am very responsible, take care of a house. I think…this feels right." Buffy sighed out the last part with a small almost pleading smile. She had switched from 'sexy young dominatrix,' to 'slightly pitiful young woman.' She did not prefer the latter.  
  
"Well, we will definitely call you if we think you are capable of this position. It seems, from what you've said, that we may have a place for you here. We like young people to fill these positions, and it seems to me that you really want to become a part of this team, am I right? But I make no promises. Surprisingly, many people have are interested. Of course there will be a background check made, but don't be worried if yours is a bit…colourful. What we look for in mentors are people who have overcome odds to reach a point of stability. We don't expect perfection. Do you have any questions?"  
  
Buffy swallowed. "Well, actually, yes. I was wondering about the pay-"  
  
Miss. Johnson interrupted her. "Miss. Summers, I am sorry if you were mislead, but this position is entirely voluntary. There are no benefits other than the satisfaction in helping others."  
  
Buffy's face fell for a second but she recovered quickly. "No, what I meant to say was, other mentors… do they feel fulfilled? Does the work they do pay after someone has been helped?"  
  
The woman across from Buffy smiled in understanding. "Those who mentor, wouldn't be able to describe the satisfaction that comes with helping someone else. I can see that you would appreciate the feeling very much. Is that all?"  
  
Buffy nodded and extended her hand. "Thank you very much for the opportunity."  
  
Buffy left the office, a bit less of a spring in her step than when she first entered. Buffy wasn't extremely disappointed though, she had expected that there would be no paychecks involved, Dawn had innocently guessed there would be. She wasn't sure if she would still take the position, but she wouldn't have to figure that out until the call came. If ever.  
  
  
  
  
  
Willow began to pack up her things. She had been in the cemetery for much of the afternoon, eating, reading, and reciting her thoughts. Before leaving she backed up against her late-lover's head stone. The cool marble pressed solidly against her back.  
  
A cool breeze stirred the air. Buttercups strewn about the cropped grass like so many tears. Dandelions surfaced with audacity, very close to the grave.  
  
Willow felt happy coming here. The first time she had been terribly scared, hated the solid stone that symbolized Tara's demise. But over the course of the summer, she had grown to appreciate the area and all it represented. A place of pain and sadness, these things feelings were necessary to heal. She now knew every bush, tree, and branch, even a couple of people that also came as often as she.  
  
Twice she had also gone to Warren's grave. There was no body found, of course, but a simple headstone had been resurrected. The search parties had stopped half way through the summer, and not only was Warren assumed dead, but Jonathan and Andrew as well. Forces in Sunnydale gave up quickly and easily. Death was all too common.  
  
The first time Willow had gone to his grave had been out of guilt, the horror of killing another human. She barely even remembered doing it, trying to was like looking through a steamed up window. It was near impossible. She remembered bits and pieces, the look on Buffy's face when she first attacked her, Giles' moans of pain, Warren's yelps…  
  
Her rage had taken over. Blinded her. But it did not excuse what she had done.  
  
The second time Willow went was when she was questioning whether or not she should turn herself in to authorities. Her friends eventually talked her out of it, though sometimes the idea entered her thoughts. Willow was still in the midst of recovery.  
  
Perhaps someday Willow would stop questioning what kind of person she was. A monster? She would ask. A victim to love and grief…a human being given the power to make horrible mistakes?  
  
She pushed herself up, whispered a soft goodbye to Tara, and then headed off to a waiting taxi. Time to put thoughts aside, time to return to living.  
  
  
  
Dawn stood with her back to her bedroom door, when Buffy came in back from the interview. The door was already open. She stopped herself from speaking when she realized her sister was on the phone. She listened quietly.  
  
"I'm not sure. I could try, but probably not without her finding out. I …just give me time." She paused, still unaware that Buffy was listening. "I told you…she still doesn't know."  
  
"Dawn? Who's on the phone?"  
  
At the sound of Buffy's voice Dawn yelped in surprise and the phone fell to the floor loudly. Suspicious, Buffy bent down to pick up the phone without breaking eye contact with Dawn. Dawn's eyes flew from the object in Buffy's hand, to Buffy's face. Her mouth worked in silent protest.  
  
"Hello?" Buffy asked into the phone. No one answered.  
  
"Hello?" She asked again. Still no reply came, and she turned it off, turning her attention back to Dawn.  
  
"Who was that?"  
  
"It…it was no one. A friend." Dawn said quickly. Buffy nodded, still looking into her sister's eyes for clues that she was lying. Only innocence glared back.  
  
"How did the interview go?" Dawn asked, changing the subject.  
  
"As well as can be expected, I guess." She pursed her lips and studied her sister once more. Then, she tossed the phone on to Dawn's bed, and left the room, calling over her shoulder.  
  
"I'm making dinner."  
  
"Ok." Dawn responded weakly, and then upon her sister's departure, she leaned against the wall with a sigh of relief.  
  
  
  
  
  
Spike stayed in his bed, as he had for the past couple days, or however long it had been since Buffy left. It could have been months ago, or perhaps only hours. Whatever the case, his thoughts fell like snow pushed about by a light breeze, inconsistent with the steady drive of his blood.  
  
What he kept thinking about, these were things he could not change. Perhaps they shouldn't be. His world was twisting and writhing, nothing meant everything, silence spoke of philosophy and his ears were deaf to screaming rhymes and riddles.  
  
One of the saddest things, he had discovered, was waking up alone. The sheets next to him had been crushed, each fold and distressed line was a truth in her absence. The candlelight had burnt out and the air was oddly warm. When life is cruel, the air isn't supposed to be so hopeful and bold, it is meant to be cold and cheerless, like dead coal. Cold air carries one's thoughts, hits the heart hard, shocks the system. Then, it sooths. It whispers of solitude.  
  
Spike glared at the pillow next to him. The middle was sunken in, sinister as the witness of Buffy's lost presence.  
  
He unconsciously rubbed his unshaven jaw and sighed. Perhaps it was time…to do something. To get dressed, to eat. He was hungry. And still somewhat in shock of the recent events. He was hungry for Buffy, her touch still had not quenched his need for her. It had been months since he had seen her last, and everything had happened so quickly. He had spoken, yelled, cried…and so had she. They had both cried. He had tasted her tears, wept her tears, kissed them, inhaled them, relished them. If only he could know what they were meant for.  
  
  
  
  
  
Buffy hummed softly as she prepared a short dinner for herself and Dawn before Xander, Anya, and Willow came over to discuss more in depth the problem that needed dealing with. The boiling water hissed and cackled spitefully, and she turned down the heat. She cut the onion finely. The knife made a crisp slicing sound.  
  
Her mood was oddly pleasant, though she had tried to push her meeting with Spike to the back of her mind. She was bothered and confused by it, unsettled with the knowledge that they would sooner more than later, have to speak about what happened. Buffy had grown over the summer though, and in her new state of mind she considered the matter, not trivial, but not terrible. She could move past this, no need to dwell.  
  
A tear trickled from her eye due to the wrath of the onion. She smiled and laughed a little at her false emotion. The knife sliced through it in clear, precise motions. Knives were like that, always so wicked and pure, leaving little room for error.  
  
With a yelp, Buffy turned to the sink just as blood began to gather upon her finger. She ran cool water over the pathetic wound.  
  
"Mmm…something smells good." Dawn commented, entering the kitchen.  
  
"Dawn, could you take the rice off the stove?" Buffy attempted to stop the blood flow with a paper towel as Dawn did her bidding.  
  
"There are also sweet potatoes in the oven, could you get those too, please?" Dawn did this also with out protest, and Buffy spooned rice onto their plates, paper towel still in hand. Dawn dished two of the potatoes onto the dishes, and brought them to the kitchen table. Buffy followed, and they sat.  
  
"Well…how was your day? You've been kinda' quiet lately." Dawn sprinkled cinnamon and sugar onto the steaming orange food, and eyed her sister, waiting for a response.  
  
"Yeah…I guess I have been. I just have a lot on my mind."  
  
"Do you want to talk about it?"  
  
"No…I can handle it." There was no reason for Buffy to let the truth trickle into Dawns ears. The confusion of the past couple days were more than enough to contemplate, and her sister didn't need to hear any of it. Or, at least she didn't want her to. Buffy was positive that she could handle everything on her own. She was an adult now, she could make her own decisions and help others, she didn't want to be anyone else's priority again. She wouldn't be. She couldn't be.  
  
"Buffy…your finger."  
  
Buffy looked down to see tears of blood forming a small gathering in stark contrast to the white of her dish.  
  
"Oh!" She commented in surprise. She turned her hand over to inspect the cut, but the wound had already healed. 


	7. Thoughts: By Jack, and the Art of Forgiv...

Chapter Seven  
  
-Thoughts: By Jack, and the Art of Forgiveness-  
  
  
  
Buffy woke from eight hours of blissful sleep. She left the room and made her way downstairs. The meeting the previous night had been uneventful, a lack of further incidents made it impossible for them to discuss anything, learn anything new. They had decided to adjourn any more 'business meetings' until further evidence or circumstance was discovered, until something else happened. Something always does.  
  
Downstairs, Dawn was already seated at the kitchen table. She was drinking a tall glass of orange juice. The morning scene was ideal.  
  
"Hey. Sleep well?" She asked.  
  
Buffy shrugged in response. Her thoughts filtered through the past couple days. New baddie, new job possibility, new Spike.  
  
"You still have something on your mind. I can tell these things." Dawn conceded.  
  
"Oh really?" Buffy asked good naturedly, one eyebrow raised in speculation. Dawn nodded seriously, her expression contrasted with her cow-print pajama bottoms.  
  
"Mhmm…it is my new power. I can sense…ready for this one? Thoughts. I know when people are thinking about something. What that 'something' may be…I don't know. But that is where you come in, see, you have the power to tell me. Isn't that amazing?"  
  
"Oh yes." Buffy agreed. "Quite."  
  
"So…what is it."  
  
"I don't know if I should say."  
  
  
  
Jack woke up and stared at the sleeping girl next to him for a moment. What was her name? Jill, Janet, Joanna? He let the question slip his mind as his hangover caught up with him. Letting his head hang, he slipped out of the deep blue and green plaid sheets and slipped on a pair of jeans and a navy tee shirt. Cautiously he left the dorm room and made his way across campus. Hopefully, who ever she was, she would be gone by the time he got back.  
  
As he walked, his hands deep in his pockets and the sun blazing on his hair, his thoughts drifted. He thought about classes, his first had only started a couple days ago, he thought about the party he was supposed to attend later that night, his car insurance. And then, as it sometimes happened, he thought of Buffy.  
  
Maybe it was because Buffy was the one to leave him behind that fateful morning, or maybe not. Perhaps it was because she was different from any other girl he had slept with…and that is special, because Jack had slept with a lot of girls.  
  
When he had woken that morning expecting to find the delicate form lying next to him, he was surprised to be alone. Somewhat shocked, he had stood up and looked around the room for a moment, and then abruptly sat down in his computer chair. He picked up a chocolate brown shirt that was draped over the corner of his bed. What kind of girl forgot her shirt?  
  
He had swiveled idly, fingering the soft material. The more he thought about Buffy, the more she appealed to him, and the more he convinced himself that if he had woken first, he wouldn't have left her alone.  
  
And so it had started, from then on, and especially after she had dumped him, his thoughts drifted towards the young blond more and more frequently. He thought about the determined way in which she moved, how thoughtfully she blinked her lashes, how dramatic her sighs were. She didn't interrupt him when he talked about football, or past girlfriends…hell, she was such a good listener, he could barely tell if she actually was listening. Yes, he concluded, Buffy was someone rare.  
  
Walking along that path towards one of the fraternities where he knew he could hang for a bit, a few passing girls eyed him appreciatively. He smiled and winked back. Girls loved the wink. Sometimes, he would wink at ugly girls, and little girls, because the hot girls thought it was sweet. He honestly believed he had women completely figured out. Except Buffy, not her. She thought about things, she didn't provide answers, didn't ask questions, and apparently didn't mind walking around shirtless.  
  
Yes, he thought, once the girls had passed…she may have been the one.  
  
  
  
  
  
"Oh, come on! You have to tell me now!" Dawn pleaded to Buffy's aloof face.  
  
"Oh…I don't know Dawn."  
  
"But you said you were going to include me more." She pouted.  
  
"Excuse me… but including you doesn't mean sharing all of my personal business." Buffy's voice was slightly annoyed.  
  
"Please? Pretty please? I looooooove you." Dawn batted her eyelashes and pushed out her lower lip. Buffy couldn't help but laugh.  
  
"Now I definitely can't tell you, your making me all happy, and it is serious, you know?"  
  
Dawn nodded and the pleading look disappeared. Her face was blank.  
  
"Ok. Now I am really serious. You should tell me. Really."  
  
"Why?"  
  
"Because, if it is bothering you, then it should come out. Our whole 'Willow' experience should have taught you that already."  
  
"You're probably right," Buffy conceded. "But I still don't know if I should be telling you."  
  
"Seriously, Buffy, you can. What is it?"  
  
Buffy stared at her sister for a long second and then decided to tell her. She glanced down before resuming her gaze. Dawn stared back steadily.  
  
"Spike is back."  
  
"Oh…wow. Buffy…I…I don't know what to say." Dawn looked at the floor feeling guilty for pressuring her sister to spill.  
  
"You don't have to say anything."  
  
"Have you spoken to him yet?"  
  
"Yeah…we did. Speak, I mean."  
  
"Well, what did he say? What happened?"  
  
Buffy's expression was distinctively sheepish.  
  
"Oh, Buffy, no. You didn't…tell me you didn't." Dawn picked up on her sister's face, and while her assumption was perceptive, she didn't want it to be true.  
  
"We did…we definitely did." Buffy put her head on the table in shame, and then looked up, her hand pushing her tousled hair back.  
  
"But…how…after he did that to you? How could you let him?"  
  
"It is so complicated Dawnie…this is why I didn't want to get into it."  
  
"Where did he go?" Dawn asked somewhat sadly.  
  
"To Africa."  
  
"Africa?"  
  
"Yeah…a lot happened to him. I think…I think he might have to tell you himself though. He owes you an explanation…he's human now." She added.  
  
Dawn's expression was stunned. Her mouth dropped open a little. "He…he's human." She finally said. Buffy nodded.  
  
"Well. What did it mean then? Between the two of you…now that he is human."  
  
"I don't know." Buffy sighed.  
  
"Well…what does it mean to him?"  
  
  
  
  
  
After much urging from Dawn to confront Spike again, Buffy finally agreed. When she cautiously stepped into the crypt, Spike was fingering the leather duster that was propped upon the chair. His eyes were closed, and his brow furrowed. Perhaps he was trying to remember something. Or perhaps he was trying to forget.  
  
"I brought that for you yesterday." She commented, causing him to look up. His eyes were a shock to her system. She would never be used to them.  
  
"Yeah. Thanks." He looked back down and then suddenly pushed the coat away as if it no longer mattered. He pulled out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. He lit one up and inhaled deeply, eagerly. The smoke passed through his lips and swayed in front of his face as he looked at her expectantly.  
  
"We should talk." Buffy commented.  
  
"'Bout what?" He leaned back.  
  
"You know."  
  
"Yeah…I suppose I do." He pushed himself over and patted the space next to him, unceremoniously inviting her to sit. Instead she sat in the chair. The chair was old; she didn't recognize the couch. Spike rolled his eyes.  
  
"So, what do you want to tell me? That it was all a mistake, that I disgusted you, that you weren't thinking straight?"  
  
"No…I wasn't going say any of that." She stared at him. "I want to know…what it meant to you."  
  
"What it meant to me?" He repeated with a raised eyebrow. Buffy nodded slowly. "Well, what do you think it meant to me, love? It meant everything. I don't think you understand yet what it feels like when I am allowed to touch you. It is like the rest of the world stops…and they are all waiting for that moment, the one second that my body comes into contact with yours." His voice was very quiet, and Buffy listened carefully, enraptured.  
  
"It was perfect…it is always perfect. Even with the whole world listening."  
  
He tapped some of the ash off of his cigarette and then continued, holding her gaze. "And even though you left as soon as you woke, and I almost wondered if it was a dream, it was still perfect. Being with you…it means everything, Buffy. My whole bleeding world." He almost smirked at the last part and stood up to walk away.  
  
When he looked back, her expression was surprised and a little hurt. He wanted to go to her, and kiss her eyes and nose and pretty pink lips, and beg her forgiveness, give her his tears, each one on a rose petal if she requested it so, but instead he stood his ground. In his mind he prayed she would say something.  
  
"How can I forgive you for what you did?" She asked. He nearly growled, he thought the question so unfair. He was angry, so angry. Why was he angry? Buffy deserved to be angry.  
  
"You either do or you don't. When you figure it out, you can come back. Until then, leave."  
  
She pursed her lips, and then stood up. Without a glance, she went out the front door. Outside she shook her head and glowered, crushing the grass with her footsteps, murdering the air as she sliced her way through it. He was so…hopeless.  
  
  
  
  
  
He stared at the wall, and then at the last second threw his cigarette down and he bolted after her. At the sudden entry into the outside world he didn't pause.  
  
"Buffy!" He called, causing her to turn around. She stared as the sun glared down on him, and he breathed heavily. His eyes were shining with hope and torment. Her breath caught at seeing him shrouded in natural light. This being…that she had seen so money times only adorned by shadows and mystique, movements that spoke of ashes and blood. Now, he was so bold and glaring, nothing hidden. He caught up to her, and took her hand. Slowly he turned around and glanced at the sudden presence of day. Then he looked back down at her, his face so different and new. His eyes still cold and ancient.  
  
"I'm sorry, I didn't mean it. Don't leave."  
  
She looked down at the ground. He continued to speak. "I want you to forgive me, but only when you want to. I want it to be real. What we have…there is no explaining it, so bloody confusing…we both make it complicated. What happened between us, a short time ago, that was one of the simplest things we ever did. We simply cared, simply forgot, I simply loved. And you…you let me. If that isn't already forgiveness, then I don't know what is. Forgiveness isn't a word."  
  
"No?" Buffy asked, forcing him to explain.  
  
"No. It's a movement, a gesture…a look, a kiss. A breath, a gasp, a tear… A touch." As a soft breeze swept over the both of them he fingered a piece of hair that had begun to fly about. His words played upon the warm air, caressing it in such a way that it blended in with the rustle of tree leaves and birdcalls, melded with the mournful sobs of a nearby woman.  
  
"No words are needed. They are meaningless, love. This…this is enough." He stared at her intently, her face basking in the sun, so beautiful, so new. Her eyes were soft and familiar. Cautiously, he let his hand fall from her hair and onto her face. Tracing her jaw and lips, he rested his forehead against her own, breathing in deeply, eyes sealed shut. Their hands were still clasped. She let them be.  
  
"Thank you." He said softly.  
  
She gave him a short smile, then turned and left, his fingers slowly falling from hers. And the moment the parted, they first second they no longer touched…it seemed the whole world listened. 


	8. Knocking On My Door

Whether you read this or not, Feral, I would like to respond to your post. While I don't appreciate the way you phrased your review, I understand your frustration with Spike in this story. In fact _I'm_ frustrated with him. He is wimpy, sucking up, etc. and it is annoying. This, however, is not without cause. Spike is bottling anger inside of himself over his situation with Buffy, and though it does not arise in this chapter, it will be dealt with in the next. Though do not expect much angst concerning the past in this story, in these chapters I am attempting to tie up the loose ends left by "Grave" while at the same time creating some of my own. And to Tanya P., thank for the defense, though it was quite unnecessary. And to everyone else, the reviews were wonderful, and I appreciate them greatly. 

Another thing….I have two chapters already written, but they are both kind of short. (the first one is three pages on Microsoft Word, and the second is also.) Should I make them two chapters, or just one? What would you prefer?

Chapter Eight

-Knocking on my Door-

Buffy returned from her emotional visit to Spike and went immediately upstairs and into her room for a nap. She shut all the shades and crawled into bed. For a long time she slept. When she awoke, it was to a light tap upon her door.

"Come in." She mumbled. Dawn cautiously opened the door and peered at her sister through the dull light. "What is it?"

"I want to see Spike."

"What?" She was suddenly awake.

"I want to see him. You had your turn."

Buffy blinked. "I don't know, Dawn. It might be too soon…he still has a lot of things he has to work out. I 'm not sure I'm comfortable with you going there. Not alone."

"Buffy," Dawn sat on the bed. "I know it is hard for you sometimes to just…let me be on my own. But…you said you were going to work on that vice. I need to talk to him. He owes me some answers, like you said before, and you need to give me the chance to receive them."

"You can't wait?" Buffy asked. Dawn shook her head and wore such a sincere expression that Buffy couldn't argue. "Fine. Just…watch yourself."

"I will." Dawn kissed her sister lightly on the forehead and began to leave.

"Be back before dark." Buffy murmured, ready to resume her nap. Dawn, turned with a sigh from her sister and shook her head while shutting the door behind her. 

Buffy had only been gone from his crypt for a couple of hours when a light knocking sounded on Spike's door. Awkwardly, he stood up and opened it, curious as to who it would be. Maybe it was Clem bringing him some food.

To his surprise, Dawn stepped through the open door and stared at him. For a long moment no one said anything, simply studied each other's eyes, then, Spike shut the door behind her and steeped further into his domain. 

"I'm surprised to see you again." He said, his back turned to her.

She ignored his comment. "Spike…look at you…you're so different."

"Like I haven't heard that before." He commented. "So, what brings you here, bit. The slayer let it slip that I'm 'a real boy' now?"

"Yeah…kind of." She spoke cautiously, still standing by the door.

"Alright then. What of it?"

She studied him once more, orbs of light reflecting in her eyes to give them a forlorn appearance. Her voice was sad and at the same time on the verge of wry laughter. "Spike…what did you do? What could you have possibly done?"

He turned around to her and studied her expression. She seemed so different from the Dawn he had barely escaped from the other night. He shook his head at her. "Please, don't make me relive it. Ask big sis what happened if you want. Just don't ask me."

Dawn nodded and looked at the floor. "I missed you." She whispered.

"Yeah?" He asked, his lips turned up in a half smile. "I thought about you some."

Dawns bottom lip quivered. "Why didn't you say goodbye?" 

Spike strode over to her and gripped her arms, bending down slightly so he could look her in the eye. "You know I couldn't nibblet. Not after what I did to…" He stopped himself and rephrased. "I left on bad terms. I didn't have time to say goodbyes."

"I know what you tried to do to Buffy."

"You do?" He let go and stepped back. 

"But I still missed you." Suddenly she threw her arms around his neck. He stared around in surprise and awkwardly patted her back. Dawn sniffed and rested her head on his shoulder. Tears and hair were smeared across his face. 

"Does that make me a bad person?" She asked, her question more rhetorical than anything. "I mean, you hurt someone I loved. How could I have missed you? How could I have still cared?"

"I…I don't know." Spike admitted.

"You never said goodbye." She whispered again.

"Dawn…" Spike began.

"No…I mean before that." She pulled away from him and ungracefully wiped her eyes. "You left my life a long time ago. You never said goodbye...just left."

"I'm sorry." He looked down at the floor.

"Are you?" She turned her back on him, ashamed of her sudden display of emotion.

"I am. I though a lot about what you said the other night…you were right. I was acting completely selfish. Didn't give a fig about how you felt."

"What other night?" Dawn asked turning around suspiciously, the ghosts of tears still present on her face.

"The other night, at your house…how could you not remember? You were ready to rip my head off, that's how angry you were." His voice was annoyed in that she had forgotten.

"I haven't seen you since the beginning of summer." She said, looking around the room. Her eyes moved about wildly as if looking at places and people Spike couldn't see.

"I'm telling you, last Saturday night."

"That was you…" Dawn whispered looking up at him. "Last Saturday, I was in the graveyard, with Buffy, we were patrolling," She began to talk faster. "I saw you…I knew it was you. And then the vamp hit me, and I got this bruise," She pointed to a barely visible mark under her eye. "So we went home, and I kept thinking, that was Spike…and then our door was open. Did you go into our house?" Her tone was slightly accusatory.

"Maybe…oh…bloody hell, yeah I did." Spike said while rolling his eyes.

Dawn shook her head and bit her lip, thoughts reeling. "That wasn't me. Who ever you spoke to, it wasn't me. We have to tell Buffy."

"You tell her, love. I'll stay." Spike's voice silently asked her not to test his reasons. She nodded at him, looked like she wanted to say something else, and then left. Unspoken words hung heavily in the air as Spike lit a cigarette. 

Xander drove to Buffy's house with Willow by his side. Anya's car was already in the driveway. Together, they walked up to the front door. Over the phone Buffy hadn't told him what had happened, but she had said there was another lead to the mysterious case they had. He could feel the transition back into scooby-dom taking place with every step he took. At the door, Xander and Willow glanced at each other and then he knocked.

Steps sounded before Buffy answered. "Come in. You didn't have to knock." She said, walking into the living room. Xander shrugged. It had been a long time since he made frequent visits, Xander wasn't ready to simply let himself in yet. 

In the living room, Anya was already seated on the couch next to Dawn. She stood up to greet him, he kissed her lightly on the cheek with a soft spoken "hey."

Everyone exchanged hellos and then sat. Nervously, Buffy spoke.

"I asked you all to come, because there was another 'event', like the Anya one, that Dawn just told me about. But…in order to explain what happened, there is something you need to know."

"What is it?" Willow asked.

"It's about Spike. He's back." She paused and looked around, studying the expressions that surfaced. Willow simply looked surprised, while Anya's surprise was mixed with some amount of shame. She made a point not to look at Xander, who was quiet, but his hands were clenched and his knuckles were white.

Buffy took a deep breath to prepare herself to announce the next part. "And…oh god. I don't know how to say this." She looked up at the ceiling as though it could provide her with words she needed. 

"Just tell us." Xander said tightly.

Willow gave him an admonishing glare before turning to Buffy. "It's ok Buff, whenever you're ready. Though, now would be good."

Buffy shook her head with the remains of her disbelief and spoke. "He's human."

Everyone's jaw dropped, and Buffy continued. "Long story short, he went to Africa, passed a series of tests, and then a demon granted him humanity and a soul."

"How…how did you find this out?" Willow asked. 

"I accidentally ran into him, and then he told me." Long story very short.

"So what, has he gone all 'angelic' on us? Both terms apply." Xander asked, recovered from the information.

"Not really. Same Spike, but with a dark tan and a facial hair. Not to mention a lack of bleached hair."

"Well, that's an improvement in my book." Xander said wryly. 

"What does he have to do with the new evil in town?" Anya asked carefully.

"Besides causing it?" Xander muttered.

Buffy ignored Xander and answered Anya. "Apparently, Spike ran into Dawn, the same time I was with her…two miles away."

"So that demon thing…it took on the shape of Dawn too."

"I guess." Buffy leaned back, glad to be off the subject of discomfort. "But, from what I've heard, the false Dawn flipped out on Spike, just like false Anya lost it with Xander."

"So, what your saying is, that the behavior shown by this…shape shifter…doesn't comply with what we have read about the Vidrio Demon?" Willow alluded. 

"And bingo was his name-o." Buffy said. Every one was quiet and then she shook her head. "I'll have to work on my witty remarks."

"While you do that, I could try and peruse the computer for some more information." 

"Ok. Will does her computer thing, while I work on my wit, the rest of you keep your eyes open, and be careful. We still don't know the motives or the strength of this new beastie…but there isn't much more we can do here, I think we can call it a night." Buffy stood up, and everyone followed as she walked them to the door. Xander and Willow hugged she and Dawn goodbye and then left. Anya paused at the door and turned to Buffy. She started to speak but then stopped when she eyed Dawn. 

"Dawn, put some hot water on the stove? I'll meet you in a second for some tea." Buffy didn't break eye contact with Anya while she spoke to her sister.

"Whatever." Dawn sighed and walked away.

"What is it Anya?" Buffy asked, stepping out onto the porch and shutting the door behind her. An odd chill stirred the air, and both women crossed their arms to ward off the cold. Peculiar summer weather.

"I was wondering…Spike. How is he?" Anya spoke quickly.

"Oh…well, he is ok I guess. You'd be surprised if you saw him." Buffy spoke uncertainly, an awkward silence filled the air. She continued.

"He's still at the crypt, if you want to speak with him. You probably should."

Anya nodded. "Thank you." She began to walk down the steps and then turned. "Buffy?"

"Yes?"

"I'm sorry. About before, I never apologized."

"You didn't know." Buffy shrugged her shoulders. Anya smiled sadly and walked away. 

"Don't let Xander find out you went to him." Buffy called out softly to Anya's back. The cold breeze carried her words away, she was the only one to hear them.

Anya walked between the gravestones, making her way to Spike's crypt. She didn't yet know what she wanted to say, but a nagging pull told her to go to him. She was never one to ignore impulse. 

The sudden scent of cigarette smoke caused her to stop walking. She turned around warily, her light jacket snug against her.

"Well, if it isn't another member of the oh, so strange welcoming committee." Spike sat atop a large headstone, ornately surrounded by cherubs. The sun set behind his back, giving him a mystical appearance. 

"Oh, um, hello Spike. What brings you around these parts?" Anya said, feigning surprise. Spike rolled his eyes and sprang off his spot.

"Real discreet Anya. What do you want? You here to warn old Spike that the ex-hubby is out to kill me?"

"No…I…" She took a deep breath and continued. "I'm not here because of Xander."

"Alright then. What is it." It wasn't a question, and his voice held a note of weary resignation. They began walking together, amidst the stones.

"You're very tan, and your hair…you look good. Tired, but good."

"Thanks." He said awkwardly. "You don't look so bad yourself."

They walked for a while longer in silence, staring into the sky, stars were beginning to surface. Spikes hands were deep in his pockets and Anya periodically pushed back hair when her arms weren't crossed. 

"Seems like we don't have much luck with the whole staying demons part of being a demon."

"Yeah…I guess we don't." Spike chuckled. "Though, you have a better record than I do."

"Have you thought about going back?" She asked.

"What?"

"Going back…you know. Do you think you'll become a vampire again."

"I…I haven't thought about it." He frowned in thought.

"Oh. I just thought you would. You don't want to stay this way, do you? I mean, it was an accident, becoming human and all. It always is."

"I didn't really think about it like that. I figured I was stuck this way."

They walked on, silence resurrected. Suddenly, a figure jumped out in front them, the night fully upon Sunnydale. It looked human, but over hanging brow and fangs told otherwise. 

"Spike" It hissed.

"Uh…you there." Spike responded to the vampire. The vamp, a man with dark hair and skin, and a hooked nose, abruptly stood straight in surprise. His voice lost its ardor. 

"Don't you remember me? It's Jason." Spike stared back blankly to his comment. "Oh, come on man! We met once, at the pit across town. You said you were gonna kill me, I said I was gonna kill you, we fought…I ran. How could you forget?"

"Sorry. Doesn't ring a bell." Spike said with a shrug. Anya watched the exchange curiously. The vampire shook his head. Then he stopped, and looked up with an evil glint in his eye.

"Wait a second. You're human." He started to creep up to them, and Spike grabbed Anya's arm, stumbling backwards away from the demon.

"What was I saying? Of course I remember you…great bloke you were." Spike laughed nervously. "Uh…so why don't you cut a fellow a break. Heh? For old time's sake?"

"I don't think so." He growled and sprang in Spike and Anya's direction. 

Spike jumped out of the way and tripped him, but the demon was quickly up. It dealt him a blow to the gut that sent Spike flying backwards and gasping for breath. He wearily stood up. The demon charged again, but this time Spike sent him a punch that left him reeling. 

"Spike!" Anya called. A stake appeared from underneath her coat and she tossed it to him. He caught it and turned back to the vampire. Spike ducked and thwarted various swings and blows. Though his strength and speed were extremely less, Spike still possessed the same skill. 

Finally, Spike managed to sneak the stake into the vamp's chest just as he received another hit to the cheek. Shortly after contact, the fist turned to dust.

Spikes chest heaved with need for breath, and he touched his cheek gingerly. Anya ran over to him. 

"Are you alright?" She asked him.

"I'll live." He laughed resignedly at the truth of his comment. 

Anya rubbed her arms as another breeze stirred her hair. 

"You're cold. You should go." Spike told her.

"What about you?" 

"I don't know. Probably head back to the crypt. Maybe I'll stay out a bit longer. Pretty night and all that rot."

"Spike."

"What?"

"Just…be ok? Please be ok." Her words of support, always awkward and sincere.

"I'll try." He said with a small smile and a nod. She smiled back and slowly turned. He watched her retreating form and then he also walked away. Another gust of wind sent the small pile of ash chasing after him.


	9. The Second Lesson in the Art of Forgiven...

Note to the reader: I don't like to write a chapter, let alone a story, that only consists of one relationship, one dynamic, and ignores all of the other important people and plots. _But…_I think that it was necessary to concentrate only on Buffy and Spike in the chapter. 

Also, I know that FanFiction has been kind of wacky lately, so no one had a chance to tell me whether or not they wanted chapters nine and ten smashed into one chapter. I chose to make it two separate chapters because I am really behind in writing, and I wanted something lying around to post. Thankyou for reading, and please review! It really helps me along.

Chapter Nine

-The Second Lesson in the Art of Forgiveness: It's Ok to Rant-

Spike stood naked in Clem's shower, relishing the hot water that fell into his eyes and mouth. He kept his lids closed, letting the beat of water fill his mind. As Spike stood under the water, his whole body savoring the sensation of hundreds of idle fingers tapping against his skin, he ran fingers through his hair. Air heavily entered and left his body, his heart pounded wildly. He was angry.

But at the same time relieved. Something had been resolved, and the power of Buffy's decision left him reeling. He loved her, and he actually wanted to love her. How many times had he wanted to extinguish his love for that wretched woman? 

It was indescribable, the condensed feeling in his head, heaviness of his lids. He felt ready to punch a hole through a wall and then fall asleep. She had forgiven him. Wasn't that enough? Why wasn't that enough…Spike balled his hand into a fist and clenched his jaw. He wanted to scream and rant. She had teased him. Let him love her, forgiven him, and then left. He hadn't heard from her since, it had been two weeks. 

He didn't know what he had expected. It wasn't like she would start to confide in him again, he had ruined everything. 

And then, they had slept together, and besides being one of the most emotional experiences of his life, he had still woken alone. When would _he_ be able to _stop_ forgiving Buffy? When would he learn? 

Spike pushed the thought aside. He had to let go. He didn't deserve to choose who he should or shouldn't forgive, right? Just keep quiet, he told himself, and don't anger anyone. A cavern in his heart held onto the pain and confusion while a quiet and forgiving mind let the water lull his thoughts.

It had been two weeks of normality for Buffy. She received a spot for the mentoring position at Sunnydale High and had training from 1-3 p.m. every other day except Sundays. Friday nights she continued to meet Xander and Willow at the bronze, and after an intense love fest, Xander and Anya had moved back in together. 

Fortunately, no more incidents had occurred and she had not seen Spike again. Lack of Spike and lack of evil made life easier. Especially since Dawn had started school again. 

Walking through the grave yard she felt mellow and bored, vampires that night had been slim pickings, and she could be doing something much more productive, such as sleeping. An eerie crawl on the back of her neck caused her to pause in her tracks and slowly turn around. Spike was before her.

She stepped back in surprise, he had obviously cleaned himself up. He had bleached his hair again, it was slicked back, and his face was freshly shaven. This was the Spike she remembered, though his expression was flat.

"Hey." She said awkwardly.

"Hey yourself." He grimaced. Buffy gave him a weird look.

"What's going on with you?" She asked, somewhat sarcastically. She didn't understand, their last meeting had ended on a somewhat pleasant note, or at least a calm one, and now he was acting like she had just dissed his mother.

"What would you care about it?"

"I…never mind. I don't know what your problem is, but-"

"My problem, slayer, is you. Been messing with my mind again, you have. You're the bloody queen of mixed signals."

"What?" She looked at him like he was a moron. This was getting tiresome. How often would they achieve a somewhat constructive level in their bizarre relationship, and then completely mess it up?

"Oh come now, like you don't know. I can't believe you, we have dramatic fights, arguments, discussions…what ever you want to call it, then a spectacular sexual intervention, followed by more drama, and then a two week hiatus. I don't know what the hell to think about us. You don't understand anything about what you're doing, but I do. You're running. We're even now, slayer. Can't blame me anymore, you forgave me. I on the other hand, how do you know I have forgiven you. For all you know I may hate you."

"You're lying." She stated. But her mind ran, he had never said he loved her, Buffy's thoughts kept repeating.

"Am I? Or have I just stumbled upon a bloody revelation. I prefer the latter myself."

"You know what Spike? I don't need this right now, so just-"

"Stupid child." He sneered. "Trying to be all high and mighty. But all you are is a little girl, who doesn't know what she wants, what she needs, or how to get it. Only knows how to play with pointy sticks."

"That…that…" Her eyes began to water.

"What's that slayer? Did I hurt you're feelings, can you ever forgive me? This poor defenseless human, with his poor li'l soul. So bloody defenseless, you think you can just twist me around your bleeding finger? Watch me crumble and writhe, while you play big sis and best friend to the scoobs?" He began to approach her with a menacing demeanor.

"Well, I'm sorry to disappoint you, little girl, child. I'm not you bloody pet anymore, and I won't take your bull either, cause I'm a big boy."

"How…how can you say these things?" Her lip quivered and she tried to glare. It was no use, she had opened herself up to him, and now he could hurt her again.

"You beat me you bruise me, you break me."

"No. Stop."

He continued his decent upon her. "You bash and tear, rip and break…"

"Stop." She began to recall all of the times she had hurt him without an apology, sometimes without a reason. 

"You're a beast. A beastly little girl, who caries her heart in a silver lined box, and hands forgiveness out like lovely charms, but doesn't care to get any in return. Well, I forgave you. Do you think you deserved it?" He whispered and smiled cruelly. Buffy, unable to take the taunting any longer, did what she was best at, she hit him. And when her hand came in contact with his harsh grin, his face parted like a mist and Spike was no longer. He was gone. That hadn't been him.

Buffy turned around, anger, pain and confusion running down her face in the shape of tears. She looked up and staring at her in shock was Spike. The real Spike. His brown hair curled and fell wet across his forehead, his startling eyes were wide and weary.

"Did you see that? Is that how you feel?" She cried. She turned, flooded with emotion.

"I…that wasn't me."

"Oh, no Spike, it was. I definitely think that what ever that thing is, you share the same emotions."

"Well…maybe it was. But what can you do about it, love?" He threw his hands up the air. "I am crazy with love for a woman who doesn't love me back, and while she so amazingly manages to forgive me, she never asks my forgiveness. Did you ever think that in all those time you beat me to a bloody pulp, teased me, hurt me, that I may have wanted you to ask, at least ask…if I would forgive you." He shook his head and took a deep breath.

Buffy couldn't think of anything to say. She sat down heavily against a gravestone and Spike sat down beside her. There was no anger left. He had finally said it.

"I do love you. And I do forgive you for things you've done, but I wish you wouldn't take it for granted. I've been holding back so bloody much. I thought I didn't deserve to be angry anymore…but that's not true. I can be angry." He said the last part in wonder, as if the idea just struck him.

"I don't know what to say." Her words were quiet.

"I don't either."

"That's probably a good thing…I think we made a breakthrough." Tears were still fresh upon her cheeks but she smiled.. Spike laughed wryly.

"Yeah…I suppose we finally did. Took us long enough…I guess we finally got it right."

"But, I think…are we past it now? Over everything that has happened between us?" She asked, picking up a stick and bending it absentmindedly.

"If we let ourselves be. I think it's time to let go. Not forget…just let go."

Silence lasted, then Buffy spoke.

"I still get to hit you sometimes." She said with a light smile.

"I get to hit you back."

"Deal."

Spike lit a cigarette and they both stood up. They looked about awkwardly.

"You should be heading home…to bit."

"You too. To the crypt."

He nodded. They stared at one another for a long moment, tension building.

"How do we say good bye…now that we…what do we do?"

"What we always do, I dramatically disappear into the shadows while you make a grand exit of your own."

"Good. Like always." Buffy turned around and took determined steps towards home, moon reflecting upon her face, glowing intensely. Her eyes were littered with galaxies. Spike watched her back and stepped away without turning from her. Darkness began to encompass his body. Suddenly she turned.

She opened her mouth for a moment, formulating her words. "Take care, Spike." She said simply.

He gave her a small smile and a dignified nod. Then, they both departed in a fashion quite unlike they always did.


	10. Tough Love

Chapter Ten

-Tough Love-

Willow ran from the dark street into the shop with a book in hand. She had been studying the latest Sunnydale creepy on her own time and had finally discovered what the latest events had been and how they had come about.

Right before reaching the door she stopped and turned around. She could have sworn she heard something…a whisper. Or maybe nothing. She stepped at a quicker pace, and the safe ring of the shop bell lessened her worries. The glow of the room renewed her enthusiasm.

"Hey Guys!" She called out to Xander and Anya. "Guess what…" She grinned widely and her eyebrows were high with 'willow pride.' "I was doing some late night scooby work because, well, my lack of life…and I found out what that thing was. In, fact, it's not a demon at all."

Xander responded. "Oh yeah? What is, oh. Hey Buff." He turned towards Buffy who had just appeared from the back room. She ignored him completely and approached Willow. "Or not." He said with narrowed brows.

Willow watched Buffy come her way, a wary smile spread upon her lips. When the sinister blond finally reached her she stopped short, and leaned forward with a whisper. Willow shifting closer to hear her.

"You tried to kill me."

"Wha…Buffy?" Willow's smile fell. And she pulled away to look into her friends eyes as her own were filled with surprise and hurt.

"You tried to kill me Willow." Buffy's voice held a note of confusion, but also irony and anger. Her lips were quirked oddly. The beginnings of a sneer?

Willow stood frozen, unsure of what to do. Xander watched silently, a surprised look upon his face. Anya was too busy to notice the exchange, until the sound of the door opening caught her attention.

"Hey Guys…it seems we aren't through with the new baddie…last night I…I…" Buffy trailed off as she saw the image of herself standing in front of Willow. Her mind reeled momentarily at seeing her double.

"You wanted me dead." The other Buffy whispered once more, this time looking at the Buffy still in the doorway. "You tried to put me back. Playing god."

The real Buffy snapped back to reality and picked up a candle and threw it at the figure. In contact, the twin became a soft forest green mist and disintegrated, lips slightly parted. Everyone stared as the candle rolled loudly across the floor, finally stopping against a shelf. It continued to slowly rock back and forth. 

"I…uh, they're not real. They poof." Buffy stated dumbly, embarrassed, she shifted her feet.

"I see that." Willow said lightly.

Buffy began to ramble, her back to Willow, walking over to Xander and Anya to put down her things. "I ran into one last night, I would have said something, called you guys, except they can't physically harm anyone so I thought it was safe to wait. I still don't know what they are, but that wasn't me, and it wasn't Anya or Dawn or anyone, we should -"

"Buffy." Xander interrupted.

"Look" Anya whispered. Buffy looked at her before tentatively following her gaze back to Willow. She took a sharp breath when she saw another Xander standing in front of the redhead. She began to head for her friend, but Anya pulled her back. "Don't. Willow knows what it is…she can handle it."

Buffy shook off Anya's hold and walked forward in concern. "But I need to-"

"Buffy, stop. She can do this. I think…I think she needs to do this. Alone."

Buffy looked as though she was about to say something, but then she stopped herself. The three watched their friend in silence.

Willow and the imposter stood mute for a long moment, until finally, it spoke.

"You tried to kill me." Came the previous phrase. 

"I…I'm…" She stuttered.

"You wanted me dead." Suddenly he shifted into the shape of Dawn.

"You tried to murder me, Willow." Her eyes were flat. "Death. You craved death. Why did you want me dead?" Willow stared with her mouth slightly open. Her breathing became ragged. Each uttered sentence hit her like a blow to the heart. "You tried to kill. Me."

Dawn shifted to Anya. "You tried to kill me." 

Willow winced and turned her head so sharply that is seemed as though she had been slapped. Anya's figure began to circle Willow. Behind her, it was suddenly Giles.

"Foolish girl. You tried to destroy us all."

It became Buffy once again. "You tried to kill me."

Then Anya. "You tried to kill me."

Tears rolled down Willow's face as the form circled her, Giles, then Dawn, Buffy, and Anya, Xander. The slow prowl became faster and faster. They spun around, always whispering, moving so fast that it seemed suddenly the were all there at once, movements sketchy, so Willow would glimpse a lifting arm, a tripping step, drifting hair, before it blurred again. Their voices collided together.

"You tried to kill me."

"…Kill me."

"You wanted…."

"To kill me."

"…Tried to kill."

"To kill."

"…To kill me." 

Flashes of colour flew about Willow, and she couldn't see the world beyond the whispers. She fell to the floor in sobs. "I'm sorry." She whispered over and over. "I'm so sorry." Abruptly the spinning stopped, and Buffy, Xander, and Anya witnessed as they all came together with a splash and formed a single person, Willow herself.

It's hair blew wildly for a moment from the force of the collision, hair of black, eyes of coal. It was the likeness of Willow during her period of revenge. She stared down the cowering alter ego coldly.

"I tried to kill them. You tried to kill them. We wanted them dead."

"Who are you?" Buffy whispered, inable to remain quiet.

"I am she." It said, nodding towards the redhead. 

"It's me. That…is me. My anger…my hate." The real Willow's voice shook.

"Why? Why so angry?" Anya asked softly.

Dark Willow turned to the group coldly, passion filling her voice. "We tried to kill you. We wanted you dead and gone, for however brief that moment, however long the attempt, we wanted you dead." She turned to Willow, seated on the floor. "They hate you. I hate you."

"I forgive you Willow." Xander stepped forward. He spoke to both of them. Uncertainty melting from his face. "I love you, and I forgive you. I could never hate you."

Dark Willow seemed to waver slightly, becoming less of a part of reality.

"I love you Wills." Buffy spoke, stepping besides Xander. "I forgive you, and I love you."

"I forgive you too, even though you tried to ruin my store." Anya said.

"And Giles, he forgives you too, and Dawn. We all love you." 

"I killed a man." The hollow figure replied. " We killed a man. We are evil."

"We still love you. We still need you."

"I let Tara down. She is dead, because of _me_. Me." The voice of the dark eyed woman was filled with woe and self-loathing. She looked down at the girl below.

"She loves you, we love you." The figure wavered once more, but then appeared solid again. Willow stood up, wiping tears from her eyes.

"And you. What can you possibly say?"

"That I forgive you." Willow whispered to herself. The other Willow sobbed, her black hair melting, the pitch from her eyes dripped down her face. Her image was shaky and looked ready to fall apart

. "I forgive you." Willow said again.

"Thank you." The other whispered, and then she suddenly burst apart, the air where she was misted, and Buffy felt water touch her lips and cheeks and arms. It tasted of salt. They were teardrops. Willow, all alone, fell to the ground weeping, and Xander went to her, holding her and rocking her. Buffy stroked her hair, and Anya whispered soft words, both sure in the knowledge of how to comfort. 

They were all sitting at Buffy's house, strewn about the living room, on the couch, chairs, and floor. Dawn sat on the arm of Buffy's chair, and Xander lay on the carpet so Anya could share the cushions with Willow. Willow had calmed hours ago, and then had slept. Now, after waking, the rest of the gang was waiting for an explanation. 

"Is it over? I mean, it's not like I ever came face to face or anything, but knowing that there was another Dawn strolling around is a little weird." Dawn gave a lopsided grin. 

"Yeah…it's over." Willow said leaning back. 

"How do you know?" Asked Buffy.

"Because, that…thing, it was anger that had taken on a form. All of our hostility had gathered and grown, and when I lost control in the beginning of the summer, all that unused energy absorbed my hate. Then…it gathered everyone else's too." She took a deep breath and continued. "Left unchecked, our feeling grew and then it took on the shape of ours physical likeness and confronted the people we ourselves could not. It's gone because we were forced to confront it. We've all forgiven each other, there isn't anything left to hate."

"So…we had to face the anger of each other, things we never said out loud? That was us out there…Willow, what we said…that couldn't have been me?" Buffy's voice stated she knew otherwise.

"Hey…it's ok. I mean, I did try to kill you, I can't expect you not to be a little angry. Hell, even I had to confront myself." She smiled slightly.

Xander shook his head. "You guys, obviously something isn't right here, why didn't we know this was going on, why didn't we tell each other we are feeling this way?"

The group was silent for a time, looking down shamefully. Finally, Buffy broke the silence. "Well, it stops now." She said determined.

"Yeah…from now on, we're gonna share everything, or…at least a lot. Maybe. The stuff that matters." Anya finally concluded.

"I love you guys." Buffy smiled and her lip stuck out a little, as did Willow and Dawn. 

Xander saw the looks, rolled his eyes, and then opens up his arms. "Come on. I can see it, a sappy group hug in the works."

Everyone, including Anya, threw themselves at Xander, and a grunt could be heard beneath the pile. 

"We're ready now." Anya stated, rather nonchalantly. "We're ready to move on."


	11. Goodbyes and the Return of Jack

Chapter Eleven

-Goodbyes and the Return of Jack-

Xander went into Willows room. It had been an eventful day, and Willow had still managed to somehow muster the strength, emotionally and physically, to pack her bags. 

"You're really leavin'? I mean, it's kind of funny that we made this huge emotional breakthrough, and now you're going to England."

Willow sat down on her bed, folding a shirt slowly. "I spoke to Giles a couple weeks ago, about going to stay with him. I know we came upon a much needed reality check, but I haven't magically healed. I'm still hurtin', you know? Going to stay with Giles… he's gonna help me. And part of that is getting in touch with my power again."

Willow waited for his reaction, he blinked in surprise, his eyebrows raised. "Magic? Will, I don't think that's such a good a idea…"

"I know, but it is something I've got to learn. My power didn't disappear, I'm hiding from it. Magic is something I need to face, so I can use it wisely, and…well, so the next time I have a tantrum, I don't try and destroy the world."

Xander shook his head and looked away, not understanding.

"No more silence, Xander, remember? We talk to each other. What is it?" 

"I know…it's just, hey, it's ok to be simply non magic Willow."

"But that isn't who I am anymore. That is why I need to leave, get away. I need to find myself." She frowned thoughtfully. "That came out a little more cliché than intended."

Xander smiled. "Ok. I trust you…but I'm really gonna miss you."

He drew her into a comforting hug. Willow smiled. "Awww…you mean it? You're gonna miss the girl living with you and your girlfriend, who can't cook, can't help with important phone calls, and goes on random killing sprees?"

"You bet."

"Thanks Xan." They pulled out of the embrace, and Xander stood up and went to the door. 

"Sleep well, big plane ride tomorrow."

Willow continued to pack with sigh.

"I'm gonna miss you." Dawn said, eyes growing watery.

"Hey, don't get all sad and lip trembly, I'll be back in a month or so."

"Or so." Buffy repeated with a sad smile. It was the next morning, and Willow stood in the middle of Xander and Anya's living room. Buffy and Dawn had come to see Willow off, everyone surrounding her. Xander held a suitcase in each hand, Willow clutched a couple small bags of her own. Every one was quiet. 

"Well…I think its time to head out." Xander said, shifting slightly.

"Yeah…ok." Willow walked to the door and Xander opened it for her, waiting for his friend to step through. She paused and turned around. Anya, Buffy, and Dawn looked at her expectantly. "I hope you know I'm not leaving because of you. I'm leaving because of me…for me."

"We know." Buffy said softly. Her lips lifted in the corners the tiniest bit.

"Yeah?" Willow asked.

"Yeah." Buffy nodded not breaking eye contact. Suddenly Willow dropped her bags at the door and run towards Buffy, throwing her arms around her. Buffy was jostled by the impact of her friend's embrace, but she laughed. She felt happy, in a way.

"I'm gonna miss you so much." Willow said, chuckling.

"I know. I'm gonna miss you too." She held her friend away at arm's length, looking her in the eye. "I love you, ok? And you're gonna come back to Sunnydale and you…everything will be better."

"It already is." Dawn threw in. She stepped forward tentatively and Willow pulled her into her arms, Buffy too. Then Anya joined. 

"Hugs are good. Warm and safe and good." Anya said.

Xander stood by the doorway with a tired but happy expression. Then Willow pulled away from the entangled arms and sighs. She walked to the door. Looking first at Xander, then looking back into the room one more time, she then left.

Buffy walked to Spike's crypt, the grass a sickly bright green against a cheery blue sky. Willow had already been on her plane for about six hours now, Buffy guessed, and she herself had just finished with her last day of mentor training for the High School, and suddenly, found she was walking to see Spike. Go figure.

Fingering the grocery bag in hand, Buffy eased open the door. No one was inside. She walked in and went down to the lower level, glancing around uncomfortably. She could have left the groceries upstairs, but she needed to talk to Spike. Who happened to be in his bed. Naked. Again. 

"Spike?" She whispered softly. He continued to sleep blissfully, candles in the corners of the room lit his laying form, his chest rose and fell.

"Spike." She whispered louder. He stirred and mumbled something, his eyes fluttering open towards her way. Seeing her, he shot upward in surprise and peered at her nervously.

"Slayer?"

"Spike."

"Cup of tea?"

"What? You have tea?"

He looked around, confused, and then grinned. "No…I don't. Have absolutely no idea as to why I said that."

Buffy studied him, a somewhat doubtful expression on her face. "Maybe I should go…you need some more sleep."

"No, no…don't go." He said quickly. "Did you want to talk? Or something…whatever. It's fine. I'm fine. Go up…I'll meet you there."

Buffy nodded and left. She waited on his chair for a couple minutes, when he finally came up. He had failed to put a shirt on, but he wore a pair of black jeans. He ran his fingers through his hair and looked at her. 

"So…what's on your mind then?"

"I brought you some things." Buffy said, reaching into her shopping bag. She pulled out some poptart boxes and a couple TV dinners. 

"Oh…thanks. Clem brings me food though…you didn't have to."

Buffy shrugged and he took the items and brought them to the back of the room. Buffy continued to pull things out. A piece of hair escaped from behind her ear and fell across her face.

"There's some more stuff in here that I thought you would need…here are some razors…"

Spike turned around, and put his hand up to his chin. He had shaved only twice in the two weeks he had been back in Sunnydale, and his cheeks were once again rough with the beginnings of a beard. Buffy spotted his self-conscious expression and sighed.

"I'm not saying you need it…just in case."

He walked over to her and pulled some things out himself. A flashlight, shaving cream, tooth paste. He nodded his head in appreciation.

"So…this it? I don't have the money right now to pay you back…" He began.

"Don't worry about it. I've got it covered this time. And…I didn't come just to bring you all of this."

"No?" Spike raised an eyebrow suggestively. Buffy shoved him playfully and walked away.

"Ugh…shut-up, you."

He stepped back and put his hands in the air in feigned innocence. "You what? Sexy desirable ex-demon that I want to shag so bad, it hurts?" He grimaced.

"Yeah, that's it." Buffy snorted and then continued. "How long are planning on living in the crypt?"

"I don't know. There are a lot of things I haven't thought about yet."

"What about a job?"

"What? No! I mean…a job. That's…not right. No…you won't see me getting any jobs. Unless they are the shifty underhanded type. So I can wear the cool black garb and look hot."

"Well, I'm just saying…you might want to start thinking about these things."

"Yeah…well, I'll get around to it."

"Oh sure…when you're not to busy sleeping, or sitting, or neglecting your appearance."

"I am not neglecting my appearance." Spike's voice was low.

"Look at you! You look like you just stepped out of some western movie."

"Well…cow boys are cool."

"What ever…look. I didn't come here to…what ever you call what we are doing. I need to tell you about what happened after you left. There are some things I think you should know."

Spike's eyebrows drew downward in question. "What is it…"

"Well…there's a couple things…but, first…Tara."

Slowly Spike's bravado slipped as Buffy recalled the events of the summer. Somewhere during the story he found his arm wrapped around her shoulder.

Willow glanced at the man sitting next to her. He was around fifty, his hair was greying and a bushy mustache of pure white adorned his upper lip. He sipped his tea slowly. The silence dragged. 

Past the man, she could see out the window. The sun rose above a field of clouds, and she wished she was the one sitting next to the window. Behind her, papers rustled. After spending about five hours on the plane already, Willow had not yet said a word to her companion. It would be nice to talk to someone who believed she was ordinary.

"So…uh…England huh? I hear even the bums wear cashmere." She smiled nervously and mentally kicked herself. She never heard that. Why did she suck so much at making conversation?

The man's mustache twitched in what may have been a smile and a responded in a polite British accent. "I wouldn't know, I have never studied the hoodlums of London very closely."

More silence.

"Do you uh…live there?"

"For many years now." He took out a book and began to read. Willow got the hint and kept her lips sealed. So he didn't want to talk…that's ok. Only eight or nine hours left. She sighed. 

A passing figure bumped into her chair and she bumped the man next to her in turn. His tea spilled onto his lap and his breath caught as Willow yelped in surprise. 

"Oh, oh, oh…I'm so sorry! It was an…oh I'm so sorry. Could you get some napkins please?" She asked without turning to the person still behind her. He didn't move as she grabbed some tissues from her bag, and she turned to him annoyed.

"Excuse me but this poor guy is…Jack?" She stared surprised at handsome man staring down at her. Involuntarily she giggled. 

"Hey Jack! It's me-"

"Willow." He finished. "Buffy's friend. How are you?"

"Hey, good you know…" Behind her the man cleared his throat. He was ignored. "Wow, I sure didn't expect to see you here."

"Yeah. Hey, sorry about your pants man." He nodded to the Englishman, who gritted his teeth back in the semblance of a grin.

"You going to visit family or something?" She asked him. He held on to the back of her chair to steady herself.

"Yeah, I've got some family and friends I'm staying with." He paused. "Hey maybe we could hook up while I'm there."

"That would be cool." Willow nodded and smiled. Behind her, the man dabbed uselessly at his pants with the tissues she gave him.

"So." Jack continued. "Pretty long flight for a trip to Arizona, isn't it?"

Willow groaned, and her companion chuckled wryly.

"Umm…Jack, your not headed for Arizona…" 


	12. The Perks of Being Desired

Disclaimer: I own none of the characters, nor do I own the premise of the story. All story lines and original characters are mine.

Note to the Reader: Since the First chapter, 22 days have passed. It is currently a Saturday morning. This is just for your notice, I don't expect you to read the story and tally the days, though I have simply for organization's sake. 

The same story is continuing, while different plots are being introduced. Please, if you take the time to read, (this is definitely not a short piece) then take the time to review. It is summer, after all, and I am sometimes tempted to place down my pen. Not a threat, just, temptation, you know? It's a tricky thing. Motivation, on the other hand, is fairly simple.

Chapter Twelve

-The Perks of Being Desired-

Buffy looked at the door to the crypt uncertainly and smoothed down her hair, which was blonder than usual, light highlights had almost reached the point of white. The air still contained the breath of summer, and she wore a simple white eyelet sundress that reached her knees. She pushed her sunglasses to the top of her head and took a breath before going to the door. As she raised her hand to knock, she stopped herself. Not everything had to change, she decided, so she simply opened the door. 

The morning sunlight filtered the grey tones of the drab atmosphere. Inside Spike was leaning over his sarcophagus staring intently at a box of fruity pebbles. An empty bowl sat next to the box.

He looked up at Buffy and gave her a quick once over, which she tried not to notice. "Long time no see. Going somewhere?"

Buffy ignored his question. "What are you doing?"

"Debating as to whether or not I should resort so low as to eating this bleeding crap. I mean really…have you ever tried this stuff?" 

Buffy smiled at his tone and seeing her expression he visibly relaxed and grinned. "All these fruity pebbles and frosted peppers and what have you. If I had a stove, I would cook myself some good and simple pancakes." He paused, "If I knew how. Well…it's not like I'm really hungry anyway." He frowned.

"We could…we could go out to eat? For breakfast." Buffy suggested in a natural tone.

Spike's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "Now? As in…now?"

"Yeah." She shrugged. "There's this little place on Madison Ave. that seems nice. I've never been there, but we might as well. You need to eat, after all." She paused for a second. "Spike…when was the last time you went outside…in the sun?"

"A couple weeks ago, I guess. I was with you, remember?"

"Well…you might want to go out more frequently, it's something that the living generally do."

"Really? Hmmm…I should probably be taking notes. What did you say? Living generally go outside…got it." He pretended to concentrate and gave a deliberate nod.

Buffy raised an eyebrow and hid another grin as she turned towards the door.

"Wait! Where are you going." Spike asked her.

"Out to eat. Are you coming?" She looked over her shoulder at him as she opened the door. Spike looked warily at the sun lit graveyard. And then he grinned.

"You know…I still have the bike."

Xander sat on the couch with Anya snug against him as she listened to his final words with Giles. Mid morning sunlight streamed through their window, lighting up the retro-mod apartment.

"Yeah, it was good talking to ya', old man…what, no! I didn't mean it that way, it's an expression! What? Yes…yes. Get Willow. Thanks." He was quiet as he waited for his friend to receive the phone. He could hear the static as it was moved about and handed to her. Willow's small voice answered.

"Hello? Xander?"

"Hey kiddo! How's it goin'?"

"Oh hey! Yeah, things are good. It's…umm, very English."

"Well, seeing how you _are_ in England, you wouldn't want it any other way."

"Well, yes, of course."

"So, what happened with Jack? Did he finally get home?"

Anya pushed his arm. "Who's Jack? You mean Buffy's Jack?"

Xander nodded told her to keep quiet while he tried to talk. She pouted.

"Yep." Willow said. "He left yesterday, and I have to admit that I'm going to kind of miss him. He was just so simple and American. He misses Buffy a lot."

"What? He was with her for like, a week."

"Yeah, well, who are we to understand the slayer's mysterious charms?"

"True, true." He was silent for a moment before continuing. "How are you doing. You ok?"

"Yeah, you know, I have Giles here and all, so it's not like I'm alone. They, the watcher's council, they have me doing all of this meditation stuff, so I can center myself, and harness my chi or whatever. I'm really bad at it though, cause all these people watch me and then I get nervous, and I kind of start to laugh."

"But you're happy?"

"Yeah, I'm definitely glad to be here. I need this, you know? Not that I don't miss you guys or anything."

"I know. Hey, hold on a second, Anya wants to say something."

He handed the phone to Anya, who took it eagerly.

"Hello?" 

"Hey Anya." Willow said, happy to hear the familiar voice.

"Hello Willow. Everyone here is doing very well, and we all miss you. Especially Xander, a lot." She handed the phone back to Xander with a proud smile on her face, while over in England Willow was biting her lip, overcome with emotion. 

"Hey, Xander?"

"Yeah?" He asked, looking at Anya thoughtfully.

"I really miss you too. Really, really."

"I know." He said softly.

"Ok…good. I should go, expensive phone bill and all. Give mine and Giles' love, and…we'll talk to you next Sunday?"

"Yeah, next Sunday."

"Ok. Bye."

"Bye." He held the phone in front of him and clicked the off button, rubbing Anya's back with his other hand. Sighing, she snuggled closer to him and rested her head on his shoulder. He failed to notice the hand she carefully draped across her stomach. 

Sitting at the small table by the window, Buffy smoothed her dress and hair, still exhilarated from the ride on Spike's motorcycle. She reapplied her lip-gloss as Spike sat down in front of her. His brown hair was curly and wind blown. His jaw and cheeks were rough with the beginnings of a beard, but it seemed that he had used the razor she bought him fairly recently. 

She opened her menu as he took off his sunglasses. His cheeks were pink with the beginnings of a burn. She told him so.

"Well, I could care, but the comparison of a burn and a pile of dust is so one sided, that I jus don't."

"Take note. Cancer bad. Sun-block good." 

He waved away her comment with the hand that held the sunglasses. He folded them up and let them hang from his shirt collar. Buffy nodded at them.

"When did you get those?"

"In Africa."

"Really?"

"Well, yeah. Do you think it took me all summer to get here?" He asked with a tinge of sarcasm. "I hung around a bit. Met people, got over myself, adapted, stole things."

"You stole those?" She asked, somewhat shocked.

"What do you think?" He said coolly, looking her right in the eyes. She opened her mouth to say something, when a tall waitress came and interrupted her. 

"Hi there, can I get either of you anything to drink?" She asked cheerily. She was around Buffy's age and had short, light brown hair and pink cheeks.

"I'll just have a water, please." Buffy told her with a smile.

"Ok, and you sir?"

Buffy smirked at the title, until she realized how normal and 'sir' worthy Spike actually looked. Then she frowned in thought.

"I'll have a water also." 

The waitress nodded and smiled at them both before walking away. As she moved past Spike, he grabbed her arm and stopped her. The waitress turned and looked at hand that encircled her wrist for a second before looking up at Spike with her lips slightly parted. Buffy felt as though she had intruded upon a pair of lovers, their pose was so intimate. 

"And love, could I have one of those little lemons? You know, that they put on the rim?" He said softly.

"Oh, sure, of course." The woman spoke tossing her head to move the hair from her eyes. She wore a half smile and her blush was very visible. Spike let go of her with a wink, and she walked away. Buffy watched the exchange curiously, her eyes only slightly narrowed in thought.

"You are such a flirt." Buffy accused, leaning back in her chair.

"She's cute." Spike said with a shrug. "And it's not like this is date or anything."

Buffy raised her eyebrows as if to say she didn't care what he did, but at the same time she stretched her arm across the table in a sultry manner and plucked one of her blond hairs off his black tee shirt. The motion suggested that they had done more than dated, which was true.

"What are you going to get?" She asked turning back to her menu. 

Spike shrugged. He hadn't even opened his yet.

"Have you thought about moving out of the crypt?"

"Well, that was a change of subject." He raised his eyebrows. "Yeah, thought about it some. I mean, as far as crypts go, it's five stars. As a house though…I am discovering its limitations."

He shifted his jaw. "Haven't we already had this conversation?"

"You could always stay with Clem."

Spike sighed and nodded, seeing there was no avoiding it. "Don't want to impose anymore than I have to, pet."

She waited as the waitress returned and set down their glasses. Spikes had a lemon slice balanced on the rim of his glass. Buffy rolled her eyes when the young woman smiled at Spike slyly. Buffy spoke again after the girl had left.

"What about money." It wasn't really a question.

"What about it?"

"How are you going to earn some? You know…it's called an income? Somewhat necessary." She sipped her water as she waited for him to reply.

"Oh…I don't know, pet." He threw up his hands in exasperation and looked up at the ceiling. "All these questions. I don't know the answers yet. I can barely figure out what I want to eat." 

A couple minutes went by, and Buffy knew what she wanted to order. She stared out the window at the flowers and the passing people. A woman walked by with a man and she laughed gayly at something he said. Small lines ran from the corners of her eyes due to years of smiling. A shock of white hair ran through the dirty blond. Buffy watched as her husband or boyfriend, or lover pulled her close. Suddenly, the woman stared straight at Buffy and their eyes caught. Slowly, eye's shining, the older woman smiled at her and Spike, but the smile was meant for Buffy. Her look seemed to say 'you understand my joy, I see it in you.' 

Buffy was overcome with such envy for the woman's happiness, but she smiled back. Then she glanced at Spike who had been staring at her, but as soon as she caught him he looked down. When Buffy turned back to the window, the woman and her companion had passed. 

Buffy observed Spike as he studied the menu, his expression growing irritated. He ran his fingers through his hair and actually growled.

"What is it?"

"These bleeding menus…the words are so bloody small."

Buffy quirked an eyebrow at him. She could read it just fine… "Spike, do you think you may need…" He glared. She stopped talking. The waitress came, and Buffy was surprised to hear herself mutter, "Thank god."

"You all set to order?" She asked. Buffy noticed how god damned chipper she was. 

"Yes, umm…I'll have the waffles with strawberries and whipped cream, please? And a side order of …hash." She glanced over at Spike who was still squinting at the menu. "And he'll have the same." She said with a smile.

Spike grumbled as the menu was taken from him, and he stared outside. The late morning sun lit his face warmly, and he emitted a golden tone. Buffy looked at him and admitted he was absolutely luscious, and then idly wondered what she was doing with him. Staring around the room she noticed a couple other women trying to catch his eye. Was he that delectable, that desirable? To them…was Buffy just any other woman sitting at a table with any other man? Did they seem as happy and content as that other couple that had just passed outside? Were these women dreaming of meeting Spike and talking to him? Long walks on the beach, boxes of chocolate… She suddenly came to realize that Spike was now just…some guy. 

She shook her head and tossed away the thought. The waitress came back with the food, and they ate in quiet small talk. Throughout the meal other women continued to look at Spike, and sometimes he looked at them too. But Buffy was the only one that held his stare.

"Is he looking at me?" The woman whispered. Her curly brown hair bobbed as she slowly pushed it aside to reveal her neck and shoulder.

"Cat, he's with someone. He isn't going take any notice." She whispered fiercely, in attempts of getting her friend to shut up. Catherine simply sighed in annoyance.

"But look at him. I mean, good god, could he be any more delectable?" She bit her lip and raised an eyebrow as she stared at the darkly tanned man sitting by the window.

"I know. Believe me, I know."

"If he came over here right now and asked you out, would you leave Tim for him?"

"What? No, jeez, I mean, really Cat, of course not." The Tawny bond stared at him and frowned thoughtfully. "At least, probably not…I don't _think_ so…" She stopped herself and rolled her eyes as Catherine giggled. "It doesn't matter anyway, that isn't going to happen."

"Of course it won't, not if he's with that blond little hussy." They both snickered.

"You're so bad…does the fact that you are getting married in three weeks phase you at all?"

"No Beth, it does not. A girl has to ride the waves before the sea calms, am I right?"

"That you are." Beth paused and sighed, twirling a strand of hair with one hand and holding her coffee with the other. "But look at how he's staring at her…do you think Tim and I will be like that? They must be deeply in love."

Catherine snorted. "Love. Give me a man like that and a box of chocolates any day. That is my kind of love."

"Oh, you aren't a romantic at all. No wonder this is you're third marriage." She said with a good natured smile.

"I'm thirty two, Beth. I have to play while I can still run."

"Well, I don't care what you say, I think they make a lovely couple. Look at how much they laugh…do you and Chris laugh like that?

"Oh….I don't know. I suppose…" Catherine frowned and rolled her eyes as she went through her purse to pay the tip. Beth grabbed her bag and adjusted the collar of her simple white button down as Catherine rose and pulled down her black dress to reveal more of her bust. Idly, Beth noticed that the object of her attention and his girlfriend were also getting up. 

The four of them met up at the door and the young blond spoke a small "excuse me" as she brushed past. The man held the door open for Catherine and Beth. 

Catherine squeezed by him, nonchalantly placing a hand on his chest and murmering her thanks. Embarressed by the fact he had caught staring, Beth averted her eyes once more as she passed him.

The sun shone brightly as they were leaving the small place, and Beth suddenly stopped… when she felt a small pinch on her bottom. Her jaw dropped slightly in surprise and Catherine stared at her curiously. 

Slowly she turned around to face the culprit, who was none other than _him._ He gave her the slightest wink, and continued to lead his girlfriend away.

Still stunned, Beth turned to Catherine. A small, surprised, smile played upon her lips, and one of her eyebrows quirked. 

"What?" Her friend asked slowly.

"I think…I think that guy just pinched my butt." She ended her words with an excited giggle, while Catherine squeeled and locked arms with her friend.

"Ah…" She sighed as they walked to her BMW. "To be twenty six, once more."

Dawn glanced at the digital clock on the microwave. She wasn't exactly sure of where Buffy had actually gone, but she figured she wouldn't be back for another couple hours. That would give her enough time. And it wasn't like he didn't understand that it had to be a secret. He knew Buffy would flip if she found out. And he understood. Part of the reason as to why she loved him, he understood these things.

Quietly and suspiciously, Dawn picked up the telephone and dialed the number surely. After three rings it finally picked up and someone said hello.

"Hey, it's me. Dawn."

At the end of their breakfast together, Spike held open the door for Buffy, and they promptly left the quaint restaurant. Putting on her sunglasses and sliding behind Spike on the motorcycle, they sped off, the sun's glare was sharp on the chrome. 

Buffy contemplated their time together as her hair whipped about. Her initial reason for going out with him, besides getting him a decent meal, was in order to reacquaint herself with him in a different setting, and discover what kind of person he was now. Unfortunately, she found that she still didn't know what to think. Her dally with him a little over two and a half weeks back had proved he was still an amazing lover. Her fight with him a few nights ago had revealed his passion, his temper, his vigor. Her talk with him three days ago was compassionate. Breakfast this morning…he was sarcastic, and a charmer. Or at least everyone else seemed to think so. Question being: What did she think? 

At the end of her thought, the constant growl of the engine suddenly stopped and the utter silence in the air held the taste of an epiphany. The quiet became thick with the sounds of birds and cars and leaves rustling. Consciously, Buffy unwound her arms from Spike's waist and he turned his head slightly to watch her slip off the bike from the corner of his eye. In her light dress and sunglasses, Buffy was the very picture of summer serenity. Spike noticed how much longer her hair was getting as she tossed it over her shoulder.

"Ok…well, I guess I'll see you later. I'll tell Dawn you said hi."

"Right then, be seeing you." 

As Buffy walked to her door Spike kicked up the stand and was about to turn on the engine when he took a chance and decided to speak.

"Hey, slayer." He called.

She turned. "Yeah?"

"Did you find the answer your question?" He asked innocently.

So caught off guard was she by his question, that her hand stood frozen in the air while she was in the midst of brushing away a strand of hair trailing along her lower lip. Finally she finished the motion and ignored his question, stating simply, "Bye Spike."

She loudly shut the door behind her as Spike grinned smugly and revved the engine loudly before driving off. He had the entire day left, he decided, and he wanted to go on a stroll. His kind of stroll. 

It was almost night when Spike finally stepped off the bike for the first time in hours.

*Do you think you know who Dawn's mystery caller is? Take a guess! If you are correct, sign the review with your first name and I will write you into the story. (Just a little challenge for myself, and because games are fun.)

* Also, Please tell me what you people do or don't like about the story. Ex: Do you like the fact that I introduce many random characters, do you like the length of the chapters, do you think I am doing a poor job with catching Buffy's character, as well as any of the others? Would you like to see more of Jack? Do you like third person narration? Would you prefer first person? Let me know!

Gracias. 


	13. Surprise

Disclaimer: I own none of the characters, or original plot created by Joss Whedon. Jack, Cat, and Beth are my own, as well as the current story line.

Note from the Author: Well…it's been a two-month hiatus, and I am deeply shamed. And I am not going to say it will be fast coming from here, because between sports, school, and my social life, I have little time. I completed this during a three-day weekend.

Thanks to all the reviewers, I will do my best to keep this story running. And to JouJou, you one my little game, so very late in the game it was too! And thank you for your very kind review. Reviews are always welcome, and so are readers. Thanks again everyone,

Carrie

Chapter 13

-Surprise-

Buffy pouted and stood with her back to the door…and _him._ She couldn't believe he was still so annoyingly clever. She sighed and looked down at the floor. The abrupt shine of the hard woods echoed her features poorly. Thoughts echoed through her mind in a frenzy. She turned to the mirror on the wall. Her face looked calm, serene, pretty. How could he tell what she was feeling?

She glanced at the calendar. Saturday. She had to call Willow. Saturday is renowned among the scoobs as call Willow day. Maybe she would even talk to Willow about things. Not so bleached things. Not so vampy things.

She looked up the stairs. Apparently Dawn hadn't heard her come in, Free Bird, by Lynard Skynard played loudly from her sisters bedroom as she walked into the Kitchen. Buffy glanced into the fridge to check and see if she needed to buy anything for dinner. She noticed the mac'n cheese from the night before and took it out, placing it in the microwave. After shutting the fridge, she idly took her sunglasses off the top of her head and placed her purse on the counter. 

She approached the phone and paused at the lyrics floating from upstairs. She dared not find significance in them. She was not in the mood for drama. 

She picked up the phone and was about to dial when she noticed the absence of a dial tone. The music stopped. She put the phone to her ear.

Her heart skipped a beat when she heard who it was. Her knees shook.

"Dad?"

Buffy heard the intake of breath from two people on the other end. The silence was thick with uncertainty and surprise. Her father spoke.

"Buffy…Buffy honey, don't be mad at Dawn…I called her fir-"

"Dawn, hang up the phone." Buffy interrupted. She heard an eager click from the other end.

"Buffy please…" The familiar voice pleaded. It was an awkward voice, like her ears were having a difficult time registering the speaker. 

"Don't you dare try and…and… You have no right…" She ended her sputtering and took a shaking breath before beginning again. 

"You have no right to call here, especially with out my knowledge." Her voice rose higher. "Don't you even think about calling back until …until, just don't!" She slammed down the receiver and stormed out of the house, just as Free Bird started up again.

She did not return until nightfall.

Anya followed Xander into their bedroom, she twisted her fingers nervously and watched him get into bed. He looked up at her.

"Hey, you comin'?" 

"Xander, I have something to tell you." She told him with a deep breath.

His eyes narrowed in concern and he patted the bed in signal for her to sit next to him. "What is it Ahn? You're ok, right? Did something happen?"

"I'm fine. Just…yes. Something has happened. Maybe you should sit down."

Xander looked at her uncertainly from his position in the bed. "Anya…I am sitting."

"I know that." She rolled her eyes in nervous exasperation. "It's just something I'm supposed to say. If one has startling information to announce, the precursor is always: You should sit down, or, you might want to sit…its standard procedure, a phrase."

"Right…I'll get back to you on that 'phrase'. Why don't you tell me whatever you need to tell me. Maybe _you_ should sit down."

She sat and looked at him confused. "You have news too?"

"What? No…just…what is it?"

She bit her lip. "I can't say it now. We've had too much conversation. I've lost my courage."

Xander sighed. "Anya, if it's this important, your going to have to tell me sooner or later. I'd prefer sooner."

He pulled her into his arms and they leaned against the back of the bed. 

"You're right." She conceded.

"It's probably not that big of a deal anyway. I love you, remember? Whatever it is, we'll be able to work through it."

"Really?" Anya asked.

"Really."

Anya smiled in obvious relief. "Ok, well I guess your right." She took a deep breath. "Xander, I'm pregnant."

Buffy stepped into the house and walked up to Dawn's room. The house was dark except for the light that slipped from under her sister's door. The violins from her mother's funeral played silently in the foreboding blackness. 

Buffy leaned against the door, suddenly dizzy, for support. Taking a deep breath to collect herself, she walked in.

Her sister was siting on the bed, her face pale with obvious nervousness. A small light poorly lit the room. Corners were dark with shadows. Dawn spoke first. The violins became louder. 

"Buffy, I'm so sorry… I was going to say something. I just…"

"You just what dawn? You thought you would wait? Until the two of you had been going behind my back for so long that I wouldn't be mad? I'm right, aren't I? It's been dad you've been talking to this whole time. Here I was thinking it was just some guy my little sister had a crush on. Jeez Dawn, how could you do this?"

Dawn's eyes were round, she stopped feeling sorry. "Just because you hate him doesn't mean I do too!" Tears were streaming down her cheeks. 

"Dawn, he doesn't care about us. He didn't even come to mom's funeral! He hasn't shown an interest in our lives for years." The silent violins reached a climax. They were at the funeral. The violins knew that the illusive father never showed.

"He doesn't care about you. Just me! He loves me." Dawn screamed. The music stopped. Buffy stopped. Her heart was a solitary beat.

"He called me, Buffy." She spoke through grit teeth. "Not you, me. You just hate that because you're scared that he isn't being punished. You hate it that he cared enough to show interest in only one of us."

"That is not true, Dawn. He hasn't seen you in years. What the hell kind of a caring father is that?" Buffy could feel the heat in her face, she ran her fingers through her hair, which held the scent of fall leaves.

"I don't care Buffy. He isn't going to change unless someone provides him the opportunity. Well, I did, and you can't stop me from forgiving him." She crossed her arms defensively.

"So, it has just slipped your mind that he left us when we were kids? That he left mom too?" Buffy paced the room, Dawn stood up. 

"He left you." Dawn spat. "I wasn't there…I didn't exist yet. Maybe if I had…he would have never really left." She shut her mouth quickly.

"How can you say that?" Buffy asked, shocked.

They stared at each other, an aged photograph of their mother was the third onlooker. Dawn blinked in surprise at her own words. Silence followed, crickets chirped.

"Buffy…I didn't mean it. I'm sorry." Her eyes welled up.

"I don't want to fight with you, Dawn. I really don't." Buffy looked down at the floor with a sigh. She had wanted Dawn to understand, to conform to her personal opinions on their father. She could see that wasn't going to happen.

"Buffy…he want's to see me on the weekends." Dawn whispered.

"And I suppose you do too?"

The lamplight lit them like two hallow figures, shadows rested in the quiet places of their skin. Dawn suddenly brought life to her motionless figure as she stepped across the room into her sister's arms. Buffy didn't embrace her right away. But when she did, she held her close.

"I didn't mean what I said. He does love you, and he misses you."

"How long have you two been…talking." Buffy said, ignoring her sister's words.

Dawn sighed into Buffy's hair. "About a month."

Buffy backed away from her sister. "I wish you had told me."

"I do too."

Buffy walked to the door and left her sister in the middle of the room. She turned around before leaving. "You can call him, and you can tell him that I asked he try to keep his calls here limited. You can…" She took a breath. "You can start to see him no more than every other weekend. But he has to come here…I don't want you going to LA. Not yet. And I want to know your plans at least three days beforehand."

Dawn smiled gratefully. Suddenly, Buffy spoke once more. "And Dawn."

"Yeah?"

"Don't get your hopes up, ok? If he doesn't show, or something, just…don't get your hopes up."

Buffy walked into her bedroom and changed her clothing. Her emotions were still running amuck, her thoughts running over themselves and moving too fast for her body. One thought rose to the surface, above the waves of the others. She was hungry. 

She hadn't had anything to eat since breakfast, so she ran downstairs to have a pop-tart. She had two bites of the sickeningly sweet stuff and then ran to the bathroom to throw it up.

She sat down on the cool tile of the bathroom and cried while she tried to hate her father.

Spike nervously approached the door and knocked. The brisk night air tickled his lips, and he wet them nervously with his toungue. The cool air was intoxicating.

Leaves danced by his feet and he gave a small jump at the crude sound of their motion. He glanced over his shoulder, and the night stared back. He knocked again, harder, more urgent. He left the crypt for a reason. 

He shifted his duffel bag and was about to knock again when the door suddenly opened. Xander's tired and weary face stared back at him. Being to tired to glare, Xander squinted in confusion before speaking.

"Spike? What are you doing here?"

"I, uh…someone was at the crypt Harris. Creepin' around outside in a not very comforting manner. I didn't think it safe."

Xander leaned against the doorframe and rubbed his face, not yet inviting Spike in. "Why didn't you go to Buffy's?" He promptly sighed. "Never mind. Stupid question."

"Well, I'd expect no less."

Xander regained his glaring ability.

"Come on, help the human chap out, ey?" He looked over his shoulder again. "Seriously, Harris. You don't think I would have come here if I didn't think something was really amiss?"

Xander stared at him in contemplation, before finally stepping aside. Spike grinned and picked up his bag, stepping around Xander and into the apartment. He patted Xander hard enough on the back to make him cough.

Before shutting the door, Xander considered running away. Screaming.


End file.
